


Book of Starry Skies

by wenwen



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anbu make questionable life decisions, Broken Families, Catharsis, Character Development, Character Study, Coping, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Hokage candidates competing to not become Hokage, Hope, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Paperwork, Politics, Rebuilding, Team Bonding, Uchiha Itachi-centric, Underage Drinking, Worldbuilding, because they are children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenwen/pseuds/wenwen
Summary: “One of you will be the Hokage after me,” the Sandaime says.  His pipe lies smoking in an ashtray on the desk before him.  “And the other will be the pillar who supports him.”  This is not friendly supposition as to the future.  This is a decree.Itachi thinks of his brother and his parents and his clan, he thinks of a best friend who disappeared in the night and left corpses and his oaths behind, he thinks of a village at peace instead of haunted by the shadows of war, and says, “Hai.”But Kakashi says, “With respect, I would rather not, Hokage-sama.”To which the Sandaime says, “And if I make it an order?”Kakashi’s face is perfectly bland. “No,” he says.The Sandaime makes it an order.(Itachi-centric: In which Itachi lives his Best Life and nobody wants to be Hokage.)





	1. The Dark-Feathered Fledgling, Taking Flight on a Windy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How unfortunate,” says Kakashi mildly. “It seems you’ve gone senile, Hokage-sama.”

Itachi wakes about ten seconds before someone knocks on the door. He stares up at the ceiling, smooth and blank and white, releases the chakra that concentrated behind his eyes instinctively, and finds a shirt to shrug into. 

He opens the door and finds a genin on his doorstep, the hitai-ate on his forehead still shining and untarnished. He is probably two or three years younger than Itachi. He squints at Itachi, then down at the scroll in his hand, and says, “Uchiha Itachi?” There is a bulging bag full of other scrolls slung over his shoulder and a kunai holster strapped a little too tightly to his thigh that is leaving sharp creases in his shorts.

“Yes,” Itachi says. 

The genin hands him the scroll. 

There is a difference between presentable to answer one's own front door and presentable to attend to a summons by the Hokage. Itachi goes to wash up.

It’s a Tuesday morning in Konoha, and the streets are crowded when Itachi steps out the door. It’s beautiful -- the cobbled streets, the dirt between paving stones cracked with age and heat, the vines and branches snaking up and down the walls of every building he passes, the twinkle of early sunlight off glass window panes. The aroma of fresh bread intermingles with the more savory smells drifting from food stalls and restaurants and the sweet perfume of the flowers bursting from pots and garden strips. 

There are shinobi leaping from roof to roof, feather-light in their landings so as not to disrupt the occupants within, but Itachi walks the streets today, the stone firm under his sandals. He passes small packs of children, civilian and shinobi alike, chattering amongst themselves on their way to school, shopkeepers bustling among their wares already laid out invitingly, and the distracted villagers on their way to breakfasts or jobs. 

The chaos does not touch Itachi. It’s loud and cheerful, and even though Itachi knows the darkness that lurks underneath, he can’t help but think of the fearlessness on the children’s faces and the openness with which villagers greet one another: this is peace. This is the reason Itachi likes walking, when taking the rooftops would be much more efficient. This is his own indulgence, the reminder of what he buys with the price he pays. 

On the fourth floor of the Hokage Tower, the chuunin administrative assistant greets him with a sunny smile, which he returns with a polite nod. “It’ll be just a moment, Itachi-san,” he says. “Go ahead into the waiting area -- Kakashi-san is already there.”

“Thank you,” says Itachi, and continues down the hallway.

Kakashi is waiting outside with his half-cocked hitai-ate and draped in his off-duty armor. He lifts a hand in lazy greeting at Itachi’s approach. “Ah, Itachi-kun,” he says distractedly, though he appears to be doing nothing more intensive than staring at the far wall. 

“Kakashi-sempai,” Itachi greets, dipping his head in a nod. He hasn’t worked with the other shinobi in a while, not since he served on Kakashi’s squad. Anbu captains rarely have cause to run missions together. Perhaps a joint mission between their squads -- but then, there would be no reason for both of them to be in their off-duty clothing. 

“Is this a mission briefing?” Itachi ventures.

“Hm. Perhaps,” says Kakashi, which means that he too does not know the nature of this summons. If Itachi looks closely, Kakashi’s visible eye is just a little too blank, the shadows under it just a little darker, and though he moves his usual smooth grace when he lowers his hand again, Itachi can very faintly make out the scent of blood. Itachi is on his third day of recovery after his last mission, but Kakashi must have just returned.

The door to the Hokage’s office opens before his observation can continue, spilling out a handful of intelligence officers whose heads are already close together as they leave, murmuring furiously under their breaths. The Sandaime calls out, “Itachi-kun, Kakashi-kun, come on in.”

The Hokage is seated behind his great wooden desk, that made of the trees coaxed into existence by the Shodaime himself. It is an elegant if simple piece and forever piled high with unending stacks of documents. Sunlight spills in from the windows behind the Hokage, giving the room a warm glow.

Itachi comes to attention a few paces in front of the desk, and at his side, Kakashi does the same with none of his earlier lethargy. For a moment, everyone is silent -- two off-duty Anbu captains, the Sandaime studying the two of them, his ever-watchful guards motionless in the rafters.

The Sandaime is old. He was the student of the Nidaime, a veteran of at least two great shinobi wars and countless battles, and retired once already. Itachi has heard whispers that he intends to attempt a second time. The Hokage’s eyes sharpen, as if hearing Itachi’s thoughts, and he nods a little to himself. 

“One of you will be the Hokage after me,” the Sandaime says at last, as casual as he might were he inviting the two of them out to tea. His pipe lies smoking in an ashtray on the desk before him, and the smoke curls up to the ceiling in lazy loops. “And the other will be the pillar who supports him.” This is not friendly supposition as to the future. This is a decree, spoken before the witnesses of his Guard.

Itachi steals a glance out of the corner of his eye to the man standing at attention next to him. Kakashi is nine years his senior, even more so in terms of active duty, and nearly the age at which the Yondaime Hokage was appointed to his position. He was the Yondaime's own student, was Itachi’s own Anbu captain, and that yawning gulf of experience between them has already forged Kakashi into a capable leader. Itachi knows it should be him who is the Hokage’s successor, that Itachi should not have been put on this equal level of consideration with him, and at the end of it all, it will likely be Kakashi who takes the position.

Itachi does not voice his doubts. He thinks of his brother and his parents and his clan, he thinks of a best friend who disappeared in the night and left corpses and his oaths behind, he thinks of a village at peace instead of haunted by the shadows of war, and says, “Hai.”

But Kakashi, who also knows that he is more likely to be chosen due to his age and greater experience, says, “With respect, I would rather not, Hokage-sama.”

To which the Sandaime says, “And if I make it an order?”

Kakashi’s face is perfectly bland. “No,” he says.

The Sandaime makes it an order.

Itachi finds Kakashi in a private room in a teahouse, a window looking out over the street on one side and the door on the other.

Itachi is wise but he is fourteen; Itachi is wise enough to know when he is not wise enough. “Captain,” he says, both a deliberate calculation and an old habit he has not fallen into for some time. “I can't be the Hokage.”

“Sure you can,” Kakashi says. He did not look up when Itachi entered and seated himself across the table, only raised an eyebrow at Itachi’s uncharacteristic breach in etiquette.

“I am not ready.”

“You will be.”

“Captain.”

“Mm? Talking to yourself, Itachi-kun?”

“It is only training, for now,” Itachi reminds him.

"After which you will be ready," responds his old captain serenely. “Give yourself a year or five, you’ll be fine.”

"You are the better candidate," argues Itachi.

“No, thank you,” Kakashi says politely, sliding the tray with the teapot and cups to the side of the table. There are two cups; he raises one in Itachi’s direction. “Tea?” he pours him a cup without waiting for a response.

Itachi expected the refusal. Kakashi is a soldier, has always been a soldier, and has made it clear he intends to die a soldier.

“I am fourteen.” He pauses, to let the words sit in the air between them. Kakashi was a child of war; he knows what Itachi lacks. “Your expertise,” Itachi says, leaving unspoken what else he is asking for, “would be greatly valued.” It is the closest thing he will come to begging and he and his former captain both know it.

Kakashi pours himself a cup. It steams gently as he sets the teapot down, and he stares distantly into its depths.

Itachi counts the passing moments with his heartbeats. To him, the Hokage is a commander, a position. To Kakashi, it is also a teacher, the dream of an old friend, painful memories dredged up from a lighter and a darker time in his life.

Kakashi rubs the mask over his chin. “Maa,” he says with more brevity than his Anbu persona ever allowed. “I guess it’s too early for me to retire. My hair hasn’t even gone grey yet.”

Soon, when Itachi has had more diplomacy training, he will know how to respond to any situation. As it is, he does not know what to do with the sheer absurdity of the comment and elects to ignore it. 

Itachi hears later from the Anbu grapevine -- the one that actually stays in Anbu -- about how Kakashi had gone and requested an audience from the Hokage, for which he showed up on time, went down on one knee, and ostensibly begged forgiveness for his premature decision and insolence but really laid down his list of demands at the Sandaime's feet. That list of demands turned out to be one demand. That one demand was Uzumaki Naruto.

At this juncture, bolstered by his previous success, Itachi feels he has re-established himself sufficiently with his former captain to seek him out directly for answers.

“I didn’t ask for Uzumaki Naruto,” Kakashi says, after Itachi has bribed him with a bento containing his best dish: grilled unagi. “I only suggested that since his status is an open secret, he might benefit from closer supervision and a mentor.”

“You want to adopt him?” Itachi clarifies, watching as the man picks through the bento box with studied casualness. 

Kakashi pauses to blink at Itachi incredulously. “No. Why would I adopt him?” he asks, and for all his training and natural intuition, Itachi can’t tell if he’s serious. “There’s no need to paint a bigger target on his head. I knew his mother,” he adds as an afterthought, and Itachi recognizes the careful way he holds himself as he says the words -- old grief and old guilt. 

“Is he not being adopted, then?” Itachi asks politely after a respectful interval has passed.

“Hm,” Kakashi says vaguely. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The day Kakashi and Itachi begin their joint apprenticeship under the Hokage, the Hyuuga Clan accepts a highly unusual ward into their ranks, which they learn as they stand at the base of the tower with a newspaper that Kakashi liberated from a passing chuunin. That story is just under the headline, which speculates that the Hokage has finally begun the process of selecting another successor and lists a number of eligible jounin. Kakashi is on that list; Itachi is not. Kakashi scuffs a hand through his shock of hair in a motion that would be sheepish on anyone else. “Politically,” he says, valiantly concealing his bafflement, “this does show the rest of the village that the Sandaime is not strictly favoring the Uchiha after sponsoring your Anbu career.”

Itachi, privately, wonders if this does not prove the opposite. The rest of the village perceives the jinchuuriki as a monster -- which the current greatest rival clan to the Uchiha had just been saddled with. Combined with the fact that Naruto himself is an eight-year-old holy terror by all accounts, one could easily misconstrue the honor and responsibility to raise and train such a child as a punishment. 

Kakashi eyes him knowingly and says, “The Hyuuga take honor quite seriously and see clearly. Too much, sometimes -- is it that strange that they would distance themselves from outsiders?”

It is not. It is the very same reason most shinobi clans have walled compounds. “Do you believe they volunteered?” Itachi asks in response. 

Kakashi hums noncommittally and says, “Ah, look at the time. We wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”

Kakashi and Itachi become, functionally, a single person. It proves difficult to replace two Anbu captains at the same time, so the Sandaime replaces only one. "When he returns, I expect you to bring him up to speed," the Sandaime tells Itachi, once Kakashi has gratefully and speedily departed to the waiting Anbu team for a last-minute, high-priority, time-sensitive mission, the type of mission a select few captains are capable of running. "And vice versa. When he returns, he will remain in Konohagakure, and you will lead the team on their next mission."

It is a curious arrangement and certainly unconventional, but Itachi just says, "Hai, Hokage-sama," and follows him to his next meeting to take the minutes.

Itachi is not and has never been what one might term a 'people person.' He is a shinobi. He does not smile at people and he does not make small talk and he has no idea why he is suddenly surrounded by people who do and expect the same from him.

"The Civilian Council," the Sandaime tells him in an aside. He is not smiling, but he does look marginally more benign. "Do try not to intimidate them too much, Itachi-kun. A fearful man is an irrational man."

Itachi widens his eyes a little and inches his eyebrows up and relaxes his shoulders. "Hai," he says, 

The Sandaime nods approval. He raises his voice just a little and says, "If we could get started, please."

His voice does not need to be loud; immediately, the civilians beeline for their seats at the table. There's a small desk at the corner, and Itachi sits with pen and paper and watches the room from beneath his eyelashes. 

A woman in a floral yukata says, smiling, "Who is this with you, Hokage-sama? Is he to be your new secretary?"

"Itachi-kun will be taking notes for us today," says the Sandaime pleasantly. "Now, the first order of business is, unless I am mistaken, the proposal for renovations on the Haikaru properties."

There is another summons waiting for Itachi when he goes home that evening, written in black ink on a cream colored card, conspicuous against the dark wood of his otherwise bare table. Itachi ignores it as he toes off his sandals and pads into his bathroom to wash up. 

When he emerges, clad in a plain shirt and sweatpants, his hair hanging loose and damp about his shoulders, he puts on the rice to steam and rifles through his refrigerator. He buys nearly the same groceries every week, like clockwork; tonight, he takes out a quarter of a cabbage, a container of onions and carrots he chopped two days prior, a carton of chicken broth, and a package of pork on the bone. He sears the pork and gets a soup started, then, reluctantly, turns to the card waiting on the table.

It is written in a graceful hand, and reads, "Itachi-kun, your brother and I would love to see you for dinner tomorrow night. Your Kaa-san."

It is utterly neutral, completely unaccusing. Itachi stares at it until his soup threatens to boil over.

He sweeps the card to the top of a bookshelf, drops it into a plain white box that already contain dozens of similar notes, and goes to turn down his stove. Soup is not a hearty meal in itself, particularly not for a shinobi, so Itachi reaches for a small tub of protein powder in his upper cabinets, shakes a handful directly into the soup so he won't wake up hungry in the middle of the night.

Itachi eats as silently as he cooked. When he is between missions, he can go days without saying a single word aloud; the solitude is welcoming. He leaves the window open when he sits down to eat, picks a book off his shelf to peruse over his rice and soup. His mother would think him unspeakably rude, reading at the dinner table, but Itachi is alone so there is no one to think him impolite.

Itachi blinks awake at dawn, staring groggily at the blank white ceiling. He gives himself thirty seconds to let his mind shift from asleep to conscious and then sits up. 

He does not have to report to the Hokage Tower until eight. He sets the rice to steam and goes for a quick run. Most of the shinobi are awake already, and a good number of civilians as well, their windows lit with the yellow glow of electric lights as they begin their days.

A chakra signature blips at him in greeting as he makes his way through the training grounds, and he pauses, slowing to a stop. A grey blur streaks towards him and coalesces into a dog, wolflike in appearance. "Haimaru," he greets, holding a hand out for the ninken to sniff. His partner is never far behind.

Hana barks a laugh as her ninken gives Itachi’s hand a thorough scrutiny, and the two other dogs at her sides trot forward to nose at him as well. "Long time," she notes, giving him an up and down glance. "You look good, Itachi."

Hana is training as a medic-nin, putting her in a rare and valuable subset of Konoha's shinobi forces. "I am well, thank you," says Itachi politely as one of the Haimaru brothers brushes his entire body against the back of Itachi’s knees. "Have I interrupted your training?"

"Nah," says Hana easily. "Thought I'd get a little warming-up in before my sensei and the rest of my team gets here -- Haimaru!" she scolds, laughter in her voice, as one of the hounds rears up to plant his front paws on Itachi’s thighs. Itachi pats the shaggy head bemusedly until Hana drags him bodily back by the scruff. "So, what've you been up to?" she asks, hoisting the dog up into her own arms. He is still a puppy but lanky already, and his hind legs dangle nearly to the ground. "Word is you've been coming and leaving the village without eating."

Itachi has been Anbu for nearly four years, which is technically confidential. In actuality, it is an open secret to anyone connected with one of the major shinobi clans, which is why Itachi is unsurprised to hear Hana refer to his service even obliquely. Even so, it wasn't until his captaincy that the frequency and duration of his missions had picked up. "I have been keeping busy."

"Well," Hana says dryly, lowering Haimaru to the ground. "You seem plenty busy now." As one, her head and those of her three ninken swivel, the ears of the latter quivering erect on their skulls. "Catch you later, my sensei's due in five," she adds. "Raincheck on a spar?" She winks and darts off without waiting for a reply. At her whistle, the three dogs whirl and sprint after her.

Hana is only a genin; she cannot hope to match him in a spar, but she made the offer as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Itachi has yet to determine if Hana's behavior can be classified as that of a typical Konoha shinobi's, but he suspects not. He finishes his run and ducks into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

Breakfast is rice and yesterday night's soup. Itachi stirs a cup of protein powder into the soup as it warms on the stove. This puts it on the verge of chalky, but Itachi is not overly concerned with the taste or texture. 

When he is finished, he leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, gives himself thirty minutes to review the previous day's notes, and then continues with his daily exercise.

Itachi recognizes he possesses an introversion that may be considered extreme even for a shinobi, in that he had designed multiple kata that can be performed within the confines of his own apartment. They are not optimal for honing combat capabilities, but suitable enough for physical conditioning when he is short on time. His clock reads ten minutes after six; he has time enough for two runs. 

When he finishes, his muscles limber and relaxed, he dons his uniform and goes to the Hokage Tower. It is strange, so much inaction, but the unending flood of work at the Tower takes up his concentration well enough.

Kakashi’s team returns in time to report directly to the Sandaime, the last business Itachi will be present for today. 

The returning team is bloodied, lightly scorched, and exhausted though wholly intact, and from what Itachi can tell, Kakashi is quite content as battered and chakra-deprived as his is. The team of five is arrayed in a neat formation before the Hokage's desk, and Itachi recognizes Yuugao's deep violet hair swept up in a ponytail, Tenzou's shaggy head parallel to hers. Tenzou is swaying a little, and dots of crimson spot the bandage disappearing under his chestplate. 

"Report," the Sandaime orders, peering over his desk at the team. 

"Three enemy targets neutralized, Hokage-sama," Kakashi answers. "Covert operative Mouse-3 has been extracted and delivered to Medical. Mission success."

"Very good," says the Sandaime, sitting back.

"Permission to dismiss the team to receive medical care?" Kakashi asks, ignoring the four furious stares that suddenly pin on the back of his neck before the owners of said stares remember themselves and return their eyes to the ground.

"Granted," the Sandaime says immediately. "Konoha thanks you for your service, Team Ro."

"Thank you, Hokage-sama. Cat-11, Cat-15, Bird-6, and Dog-9: dismissed. Report to Medical for evaluation," Kakashi directs, and in unison, his team stands and vanishes in a series of shunshin, leaving him kneeling alone. 

The Hokage reaches for his pipe and takes a thoughtful puff. "Stand up, Kakashi-kun, and take off your mask."

Kakashi obeys, hooking the snarling dog-mask onto his belt as he rises. His face is neutral, absent the fatigue he must feel. "Hokage-sama?"

Rings of smoke rise to the ceiling as the Hokage considers Kakashi, and Itachi is suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he should not be present for this. He starts to slip around the wall of the room towards the door but the Hokage raises a hand without looking, forestalling his attempt. "Kakashi-kun," the Sandaime says, "do you enjoy being in Anbu?"

The question is a trap. Itachi despairs for his failed escape. 

"It is a job that I excel at," Kakashi evades valiantly.

"Do you enjoy it?" the Sandaime presses, not dissuaded in the slightest.

"It is the purpose in which I feel I can best serve the village," is Kakashi's answer, and Itachi hides a sympathetic wince at the gleam in their Hokage's eyes. 

"I feel you are better suited to serve in the light," the Sandaime counters. 

"That's nice," says Kakashi, his visible eye curving into what his Anbu team would call a 'bullshitting' smile. "But I would respectfully disagree, Hokage-sama."

Clearly he is still not entirely sold on the Hokage candidate matter. Equally clearly, the Sandaime did not expect a borderline disrespectful parry and comes out rather behind in their ongoing match.

The Sandaime narrowly avoids pinching the bridge of his nose. "Be that as it may," he says forebodingly, "you will remain in the Village for the next two weeks to learn your new duties. Your Anbu duties will be deferred to Itachi when unavoidable once the reports for your immediate past mission have been submitted."

"Are you sure you don't want Itachi-kun to write those up as well, Hokage-sama?" Kakashi chirps. 

The Sandaime closes his eyes. "You're dismissed, Anbu Wolf." He takes a steadying inhale from his pipe as Kakashi sketches a bow and vanishes. "Itachi-kun," he says without opening his eyes.

"Hai," Itachi responds automatically, wiping any expression off his face. 

The Hokage seems to struggle for words. "I would appreciate it if you made the attempt to show Kakashi-kun that his service in the Anbu, while appreciated, is only a fraction of his worth to the Village."

Itachi has no idea how to accomplish such a mission. "Hai, Hokage-sama," he says nevertheless.

"Come out with us tonight, Itachi-kun," Kakashi says when Itachi has been excused for the day. He'd been waiting in the antechamber for Itachi to emerge, leaned up against the wall casually, still in his soiled armor with the snarling porcelain mask hiding his face. "No, thank you," Itachi says politely. 

His old captain takes this as permission to follow him home. He keeps his silence for the walk back, and the flow of voices and laughter washes over them both as they pass by restaurants with the doors thrown wide to spill golden light and the scent of frying meat into the streets.

Itachi is mentally taking inventory of his refrigerator and cupboards. Tomorrow he will need to go shopping, as he normally does, as he has no protein but the can of powdered supplement, the dried packaged meat in his backup supplies in case he is on a mission and misses his customary restocking day, and in his emergency supplies. He will have to eject Kakashi before a dinner invitation becomes unavoidable because he does not have enough to feed them both. 

"If you don't have enough food," Kakashi says, as if overhearing his thoughts, "then come out with us tonight."

Itachi-kun unlocks the door. Kakashi lets himself in after him. "I'm afraid I must decline," Itachi demurs. He unzips his flak jacket and shrugs it off, toes his sandals to the side of the entryway.

Kakashi peels off his mask and his sandals and wanders past into Itachi's apartment. "You're going to need a lot more support as Hokage than just you by yourself," he points out mildly.

"Or rather, you will," Itachi deflects, trying to decide if ushering him out the window would be more expedient.

Kakashi has found the box with its collection of pristine cream-colored invitations. "You don't intend to attend this," he says, too knowing. His nose would have told him that the one on top was fresh, that its sender had held it only recently. "If you have other plans, you have a reason to decline this one." He waves the card between two fingers before dropping it back in the box.

Itachi says nothing, discreetly eyeing the distance between his old captain and the most socially acceptable exit.

"Ah," says Kakashi with sudden understanding. "You intend to ignore both invitations regardless."

"Yes," agrees Itachi, and sees him out the door.

Kakashi’s return to the village proceeds unremarkably except that the following morning he shows up to the Hokage Tower freshly scrubbed and a full thirty minutes late. Itachi is already standing unobtrusively against the wall, and Kakashi slides in next to him so quickly and silently that Itachi nearly stabs him in his surprise.

The Sandaime says without looking up, "You will not be late again."

"Hai, Hokage-sama," Kakashi says meekly.

The next day he is only ten minutes late.

As they enter, the Sandaime orders, “Leave us,” without looking up, and with a whisper of chakra, the Anbu guards slip out of the room. He sets down his pen long enough to make a quick handseal, and the privacy seals activate, gold lines trailing along the walls before fading once more.

The towering stacks of paperwork on the Hokage’s desk have been temporarily relegated to the sideboard to make room for the civilian gossip rags strewn over its surface, one each from the other major villages and several from the minor ones as well. The Sandaime leans back in his chair, inviting Itachi and Kakashi forward to peruse.

A jounin like Kakashi suddenly taking up secretarial duties for the Hokage makes a much bigger splash than Itachi having done the same. Itachi is young, officially a chuunin, and definitely not a war hero. On his appointment as the Hokage’s aide, he had to order a new flak jacket from the quartermaster because he outgrew the one he wore when he made the rank for the first time at ten. It sits on his shoulders stiffly, and the collar rubs against the underside of his chin. He looks exactly like a new peacetime chuunin, taking up administrative duties because there is no need for combat shinobi. 

Kakashi's off-duty armor has also been replaced with an equally brand new flak jacket in order to inspire the same appearance as Itachi's does for him, only it is less successful because Kakashi is a known jounin. Kakashi had, as far as Itachi knew, never actually been issued one before today, and Itachi catches him glancing down the bulky front in dismay more than once. 

Kakashi flips over the closest newspaper. _ ‘Runs In The Family: Son Of White Fang Hatake Kakashi In Village Doghouse After Earning Hokage’s Ire,’ _ it reads. 

_ ‘Konoha -- Sandaime Hokage Eyeing Yondaime’s Protégé Hatake Kakashi For Second Successor,’ _ says another. 

_ ‘Fall From Grace: Elite Konoha Jounin Relegated To Administration Post Following Devastating Mission Failure,’ _ suggests a third.

_ 'Old Man Hokage Finally Gone SENILE? Looking To FRIEND-KILLER Reiketsu Kakashi As Potential Godaime!! Konoha In Chaos As Officials Scramble To Do Damage Control!! Turn the page to read more →’ _ blares the headline from Kumo. 

_ ‘Konoha’s Hatake Kakashi Presumed Off Active Duty Roster After Career-Ending Injury,’ _ speculates yet another.

“How unfortunate,” says Kakashi mildly. “It seems you’ve gone senile, Hokage-sama.”

Itachi slants a glance over at Kakashi, but it seems his reluctant acquiescence to the new arrangements have bought the other man some leeway yet with the Sandaime, because the Sandaime merely puffs tolerantly on his pipe and says, “Do give the Kusa Chronicles a read. I particularly enjoyed that one.”

Kakashi picks up a paper entitled, _ ‘Washed Up: From Child Prodigy To Obscurity In Ten Years’ _ and skims the article. _ “Ten years ago, Hatake Kakashi was one of Konoha’s youngest jounin and a rising star in its ranks,” _ he reads aloud. _ “The son of the infamous White Fang and student of the Yondaime Hokage, he was one of the most promising young shinobi of his generation until the loss of an eye in a devastating field injury. Today, at twenty-three years old, he can be found juggling files instead of kunai as a lowly secretarial assistant in the Sandaime Hokage’s administration. What happened? How did this young starlet blaze through the Third Shinobi War only to burn out so quickly?” _ He flips the page. “Ouch,” he says. “It’s because I couldn’t handle the pressure to be the best after a long rehabilitation period and had a series of nervous breakdowns covered up by the administration so I wouldn’t demoralize the other shinobi. I’m afraid of any blades bigger than a standard kunai now.”

There are no newspapers with Itachi’s name in the headline, or even in the body of the article, and Itachi feels the relief slide down his back. There is, after all, a much more famous Uchiha than he.

“These are of course civilian newspapers,” says the Hokage, setting his pipe down in its ashtray and steepling his fingers. “However, we would be remiss to believe the shinobi of these villages are not observing our proceedings closely. Neither of you will return to Anbu headquarters. Your team will be sworn to secrecy, and you will meet with them in a secure room in this tower for mission briefings.”

"Hai," Itachi and Kakashi say in unison.

"Itachi-kun, tomorrow morning you will have a briefing for a mission slated for one week from today," the Hokage continues.

"Hai," says Itachi, and ignores the way Kakashi's stare lingers on him long after they've moved on to the Academy's quarterly budgets. 

Operative Aburame Sugaru had not been a member of Team Ro for over a year; he had died as one of Danzou's guards the night of the councilman's assassination. Hyuuga Kou had left the Corps and had been replaced by Hyuuga Hoheto, seven years Itachi's senior. The final, newest member of Team Ro was sixteen year old Imai Seitarou. 

"He's an assassination specialist," Tenzou informs him. He had dropped into step next to Itachi at the grocer and followed him through the aisles as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Itachi, having never interacted with the other shinobi since his own departure from Ro-Han, naturally concludes that Kakashi must have prompted this interaction in some way. He gives Tenzou a neutral look in response. Tenzou stares back blankly. 

Kakashi has briefed Itachi on the members of Team Ro, just as Itachi has briefed Kakashi on the Civilian Council, but of course facts on paper present differently than they do in action. Tenzou is his best resource for information now besides Kakashi, and comparatively more straightforward. Likely Kakashi has put him in his path to do the work he himself does not want to do, so seeking Kakashi out will prove unproductive. Itachi turns back to the shelves and adds an extra package of ground meat to his basket. "Would you like to come over for gyoza soup?" he asks. 

Tenzou is an exceedingly polite guest. He waits to be invited inside, offers to help prepare the food and accepts the rejection gracefully, and doesn't investigate Itachi's meagre possessions. He sits seiza at Itachi's low living room table, and when Itachi emerges from the kitchen half an hour later with two streaming bowls, it appears he has not moved at all. "Thank you, Captain," Tenzou says as a bowl is placed before him. He clasps his hands together. "Itadakimasu." 

"Itadakimasu," Itachi echoes, and then, "Tell me about the team." 

Tenzou is eighteen, the second oldest of the team, and a combat and capture specialist. He's Kakashi's Second, but he rushes to assure Itachi that he doesn't have to be his as well. Yuugao is seventeen and a kenjutsu specialist, also combat-heavy, and fiery right up until she enters a battle, when she turns cold as ice. Hoheto is a tracker and sensor, trained in traps and minor sealing. Seitarou has been on the team for seven days.

Itachi gives him a look at that last part. 

"His file says that he's an assassination and infiltration specialist," Tenzou explains, setting down his chopsticks on an empty bowl. "But we haven't actually done either of those since he's joined. And he's been in the hospital for most of yesterday. We didn't have a chance to run any full-team drills with him before the last mission so he was mostly a sentry."

If the mission hadn’t been such high priority, Kakashi might have refused to run it on those grounds. "Reserve a private training ground before the week is over," Itachi orders. He doesn't know the nature of their next mission yet, but he won't go in blind if he doesn't have to. "Relay the details to me when it's done."

"Yes, sir," says Tenzou, making a mark on his pad. 

Itachi sees no reason to disrupt Tenzou’s position as second-in-command. He has the greatest seniority on the team, and considering his past in Root, has been in black ops for most of his life. He like Yuugao is a career Anbu, who will likely be reassigned to another post off the front lines when he hits the encouraged retirement age of twenty-five. A recruit trainer, perhaps, or T&I. 

He also turns out to be quite efficient, in that at the beginning of the next business day, as Itachi is entering the Hokage Tower, he slips a piece of paper into Itachi’s pocket without anyone else in the room the wiser. Itachi checks it in the hallway. _ Training Ground 31, _ it reads. _ Saturday, 2 A.M. _

Itachi accepts that it is probably as close to privacy as they can get in a ninja village and silently mourns his early Saturday morning.

Knowing a team’s abilities is very different from knowing a team’s members, a fact Itachi is grimly reminded of each time he is attached to a new team. He stands at the treeline and watches the moonlight spill down on the silhouettes beginning to warm up on the field.

“Why are you lurking?” someone says near his ear, and Itachi’s eyes snap around. “I’m sorry,” Tenzou says, immediately backing up with his hands raised. “Kakashi-taichou ordered me to. He wants me to tell you that you can’t join the team if you only watch.”

Itachi raises his eyebrow and turns around completely.

“He’s not here,” Tenzou reassures, still sounding abashed. “He didn’t want to step on your toes or anything. He just said you’d be, ah, lurking. Here.” 

That’s considerate of Kakashi, considering that technically it is Itachi who is stealing his team. “I suppose we should go, then,” he says.

The three Anbu in the field are absent their armor, dressed down in off-duty uniforms. Yuugao smiles at him, though they know each other only in passing. Seitarou ducks his head in a bow. Hoheto crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Two in the morning, Captain?” Hoheto does not sound amused. He also does not particularly sound like he means ‘Captain’ as a gesture of respect.

Tenzou winces minutely out of the corner of his eye and Itachi knows without a doubt that were Kakashi in his place, he would throw Tenzou to the wolves without mercy. “Discretion is mandatory, given the nature of my position,” he says instead. “I’ve been advised that you have been briefed on this already.”

“Hai, we were,” confirms Tenzou quickly. Hoheto doesn’t press.

“I have received your personnel files,” Itachi continues. “As you have not received mine, I will inform you that I am designated as an infiltration specialist with combat proficiencies primarily in genjutsu and katon ninjutsu.” He pauses, and the four members of the team watch him hawkishly. “Our upcoming mission is to capture or kill a nukenin target,” he says. “Therefore, the objective for today’s exercise will be to find and capture me.”

He can read their skepticism. Hide from a Hyuuga? Evade the Mokuton? 

“And eliminate the members of the opposing team,” he adds. “Tenzou, with Seitarou. Yuugao, with Hoheto. You have one hour. Begin.”

The exercise ends with a large bush tangled in Yuugao’s hair, Seitarou pinned to the ground by a wire trap, and Itachi decidedly uncaptured. 

Itachi considers asking that the mission be reassigned.

Itachi has run an Anbu team before. He’s been a captain for nearly a full year at this point. He sits down with Ro-Han’s personnel folders spread out over his living room table and stares at them. He’s not supposed to take those files out of the Anbu headquarters, but given that he’s currently banned from HQ, allows himself a dispensation. 

Someone knocks on his door. Itachi is utterly unsurprised to find Kakashi on the other side.

“Itachi-kun,” says Kakashi, faux-surprised like they had encountered each other unexpectedly at the market rather than the other man coming to his apartment and knocking on his door.

“Kakashi-sempai,” Itachi returns, resigned. 

Kakashi glances past him into the apartment, directly at the mess of illicit files sprawling on his table. “Hm,” he says mildly. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight, Itachi-kun?”

Kakashi has yet to say who ‘us’ refers to or where ‘out’ is. "No, thank you," Itachi says, wondering if he can get away with accidentally shutting the door in Kakashi's face. 

"Itachi-kun," Kakashi says, and there's something on his face resembling a smile but more fixed. "When's the last time you interacted with another shinobi outside of official business?"

Itachi talked to Inuzuka Hana a week or two ago. This information does not impress Kakashi. 

"You don't have other plans tonight," Kakashi says with an air of finality. 

Itachi glances over his shoulder at Ro-Han's files. 

"You'll learn more about them if you come with me," Kakashi says pointedly.

Itachi has less than a week before he leads the team on their first mission together, and limited training sessions before that happens. He gives Kakashi his blankest stare. "Where are we going?"

They end up at a bar. It's a shinobi bar with non-alcoholic options for those who would prefer not to poison themselves, either to protect their brain development or because they would be on duty imminently. Kakashi leads them straight past the main floor, down a narrow hallway and alarmingly rickety stairs, and into a private room thick with smoke. 

"Get this out of here, Sarutobi," Kakashi says loudly as they enter.

Asuma flips Kakashi the finger but complies, and with the cool burst of a fuuton, the air clears. 

Itachi recognizes faces, matches them to the names of chuunin and tokujo and jounin and Anbu. The oldest are in their late twenties -- he spots Namiashi Raidou in the corner with another former member of the Yondaime's Guard Platoon, nursing shot glasses of whisky -- and Itachi is the youngest, though there are several other teenagers mingling. 

"Hatake," says Genma, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes. "Didn't think you'd show, lazy bastard." 

"Maa," Kakashi drawls. "Couldn't give up the chance to corrupt the next generation. You seen Uzuki?"

Genma jerks a thumb over his shoulder as he goes. Kakashi ambles in that direction, and absent other options, Itachi follows. "Stick with Yuugao," Kakashi advises over his shoulder. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."

Itachi had been planning to stick with Kakashi, if anyone.

"Kakashi-sempai!" Yuugao's voice is bright and pleased. "And Itachi-san." She's out of her uniform, wearing simple black clothes that highlight the dark brilliance of her hair. "I haven't seen you down here before."

"Itachi-kun isn't too much of a drinker," Kakashi explains, patting Itachi on the shoulder. 

"What about tea?" Yuugao suggests immediately. "They've a few types. They have ciders and sodas or lemonade too, if you prefer."

"Tea would be…nice," Itachi manages, somewhat taken aback by Yuugao's exponentially friendlier demeanor. 

"I'll get it," Yuugao's companion volunteers. "I'm about to grab myself something anyways. Anything for you, Hatake-san? Yuugao?"

"Fizzy pink lemonade, thanks Gekkou-kun," Kakashi says cheerfully. 

"You know what I like," Yuugao says with a smile. Gekkou returns it as he goes.

"Where's the rookie?" Kakashi asks, settling himself on a wooden stool. Gingerly, Itachi follows suit. 

"Tenzou volunteered to fetch him," answers Yuugao. "He and Hoheto might be trying to pregame him, I don't know."

"How vicious," Kakashi muses affectionately. "Kid's not going to be able to walk tomorrow." 

Yuugao's answering smirk is sly. "That's the fun part."

"Ah, youth," Kakashi sighs. "They grow up so fast don't they, Itachi-kun? Oh, here they are." 

Tenzou pours Seitarou down onto the stool next to Kakashi, slumping next to him with a sigh. "Sempai," he greets, and throws a half-hearted salute at Itachi.

"Captain!" Seitarou bubbles at Kakashi, deliriously happy and already quite intoxicated. He turns to Itachi and repeats, "Captain!" in a slightly less enthusiastic tone. He pauses, frowns. "You can't both be Captain," he says sadly, and stares off blankly into the distance. 

"Ah," Kakashi says. "Might have gone a little overboard there, boys."

Hoheto gives them both a nod and promptly vanishes, presumably to procure more alcohol. 

"Oh, Tenzou," says Gekkou. He's holding three tall glasses in one hand and a shot glass and a bottle in the other. He juggles them all down onto the table. 

"Hayate," Tenzou says. His eyes are already starting to look a little bloodshot. "Doctors still aren't letting you drink, huh?"

"Nope," agrees Gekkou -- Hayate -- gloomily, pulling his glass of what smells like apple juice closer "They say it'll interfere with the new meds they're trying."

Seitarou leans in, unfocused eyes more or less on Itachi. "You can be Cap," he slurs. "Cause it's shorter. Like you."

Hayate snorts. Itachi blinks, nonplussed. 

"This is some excellent blackmail," Yuugao opines, pouring herself a shot of kuusu. "Please let me be the one to tell him what he says."

Kakashi claims his bubbling, very bright pink lemonade. Itachi tries his tea. It's iced, bitter and tangy and painfully sweet, and he finds that he likes it.

Hoheto returns with a pitcher of umeshu and three squat glasses. “Jyan-Ken-Pon,” he announces grimly, pouring out a measure each for himself, Seitarou, and Tenzou. “He or she who loses, drinks.” 

Seitarou lurches upright, pulling his closer. Itachi does not think he actually needs more liquor. “Yeah! Levelin’ th’ playin’ field. Good ‘dea, H’heto-sempai.”

Itachi, Kakashi, and Hayate don't have alcoholic drinks. Itachi opens his mouth to point out that drinking would have no detrimental effect on them but behind Seitarou, Yuugao taps a finger against her lips and winks. Itachi closes his mouth again. 

“Sure,” says Kakashi breezily, and sticks out his hand. “Jyan, Ken, Pon.”

Seitarou loses.

Seitarou loses quite a bit, because he only chooses Pon. 

Hoheto keeps drinking even though he loses only infrequently after Seitarou is disqualified by virtue of losing consciousness. He must have begun imbibing early, at the same time as Seitarou, but the first sign that he has veered firmly into inebriation is when he declares, “I understand the Kago no Tori no Juin,” in a completely normal voice. No Branch Hyuuga brings up the Caged Bird Seal if they are even remotely sober. 

Itachi looks to Kakashi for help, but Kakashi waves a careless hand, on his second fizzy pink lemon beverage. Yuugao sighs morosely and lets Hayate pour her another drink. Seitarou is drooling facedown on the counter. 

“It is a relief,” Hoheto insists. He reaches for the pitcher and only sloshes a little outside his glass. “I know that no matter the circumstances of my death, I will not contribute to the downfall of the Clan.”

Tenzou pats him sympathetically. He does not seem drunk, only sleepy. His eyes keep closing for longer than a blink should strictly last. 

“What was completely unnecessary,” Hoheto continues, his voice never rising from its steady monotone, “is that an obedience component was added.” He pauses to give them each a piercing stare, including the top of Seitarou’s head. “The Main Family,” he proclaims, “are _ dicks.” _

Tenzou give him another sympathetic pat. “We know,” he yawns. “Why don’t you tell Itachi-san about the time Hiashi-sama tripped into a koi pond?” 

Itachi finds himself on the receiving end of Hoheto’s stare. “This is vital information for you to know,” the Hyuuga says gravely. 

“Ah,” says Itachi. 

“After that, Itachi-kun can tell you about the time Councilwoman Koharu’s aide accidentally invited a band of strippers to her sixtieth birthday celebration,” Kakashi volunteers lazily, raising his glass in their direction. 

Itachi wonders if it is treasonous for them to be gossiping about their superiors in the back room of a bar. But even in a corner of a crowded room, even with the majority of their number too inebriated to function normally, he finds that though he is not exactly content, he is strangely comfortable. “I am sure that my account is not as amusing as yours,” Itachi offers, and for the first time that night, the corner of Hoheto’s mouth crooks in a tiny smile.

Someone knocks on Itachi's door not soon after dawn. He's been up for long enough to get dressed, and opens the door to find Yuugao on the other side wearing sunglasses and holding a large coffee in one hand. "Morning, Cap," she says, raising the tumbler in his direction. "I'm about to go wake the rest of the team for training. Want to come?"

Itachi hesitates. He has to report to the Tower in one hour, and there's too little time to run drills with the rest of the team. 

"Not for the training part," Yuugao assures him. "Just the waking part. It'll be fun. You can bill the time as getting to know your teammates."

That is indeed one of the items Itachi has on his list of tasks to complete. "Allow me to retrieve the rest of my uniform," he tells her, and goes to get his flak jacket.

Tenzou owns a small flat near the Anbu headquarters. All three of their teammates had been deposited there the night before because it is closest to the drinking establishment and Kakashi would not be bothered to take them to different locations when they proved unable to walk under their own power. Yuugao, having still been upright at the end of the night, escaped the same fate and appears quite smug of this fact.

She doesn't take them to the roofs, content to stroll along the streets in silence as she nurses sips from her coffee. "Tenzou's going to try and book another private training site off Anbu grounds," she says. 

"Good," says Itachi.

Yuugao nods. She doesn't expect any further conversation from him, which is a relief. She breezes into Tenzou's apartment ahead of Itachi as if it were her own, her footsteps deliberately loud. "Good morning!" she calls cheerfully, sweeping the curtains open with one quick movement. The burgeoning sunlight floods the darkened room. “Captain on deck!”

This elicits only a pitiful whimper from one of the lumps on the floor and a full-bodied cringe away from the light from the other. On the battered futon, Tenzou groans and makes no move to get up. 

“Why,” mutters Hoheto, both arms covering his face. 

“I have coffee,” Yuugao singsongs, and three heads turn towards her only to flinch when the movement exacerbates the throbbing in their heads. “But it’s mine,” she adds.

“Why is Anko considered the mean one?” Tenzou bemoans, sinking back into the couch cushions in despair.

“Have you met Anko?” Hoheto points out, his voice muffled. He sprawled flat on his back on Tenzou’s carpet and does not seem as though he will amend this any time in the near future. 

“You guys are embarrassing yourselves in front of Cap,” Yuugao drawls, but saunters into the kitchen, pulling down a can of coffee and a kettle. 

Itachi takes that as his cue. “Good morning,” he says.

Hoheto lurches upright, fixes bleary, vaguely horrified eyes on Itachi, and wordlessly staggers towards the bathroom.

“Oh gods -- Captain!” Seitarou blurts, stumbling upright and turning bone white and then greenish in the process. He only pauses once to clutch at his head. Tenzou flaps a hand at Itachi in something that resembles a salute. 

“You mean ‘Cap’,” Yuugao corrects, saccharine, and Tenzou recovers enough to snicker.

“Huh?” Seitarou’s mental facilities appear not to have fully recovered. He winces at the clatter when Yuugao sets the kettle on the stove. 

“Do you -- ow -- do you remember what you said to Kakashi-taichou and Itachi-taichou last night?” Tenzou rasps, finally peeling open his eyes. He drags himself upright so he’s draped against the back of the futon. 

The blood drains from Seitarou’s face. “N-no,” he stammers.

Yuugao takes great glee in reminding him. 

Seitarou is appropriately mortified. Tenzou is disproportionately amused.

Hoheto emerges from the bathroom completely unruffled but for the frown that slits his eyes nearly shut. As a reward, Yuugao presents him the first mug of coffee. “First one up gets the first coffee,” Yuugao says, unrepentant, when Tenzou makes a wordless noise of outrage. “Oh -- Cap? Coffee?” She plucks the mug back out of Hoheto’s hands and offers it to Itachi. Hoheto, betrayed but in no position to do anything about it, glares at Yuugao.

“No, thank you,” says Itachi, and hands it back to Hoheto. Hoheto stalks away before anyone else can remove his drink. 

“Me,” Seitarou begs, reaching towards Yuugao but Tenzou trips him on his way to the kitchen and he goes down with a squawk. 

Tenzou’s quicksilver smirk is entirely for Yuugao and Itachi. “Sorry, rookie,” says Tenzou, solemn-faced as he turns around with his cup victoriously. “Too slow.”

“That was dirty, sempai,” complains Seitarou, after fifteen seconds where he has to concentrate so as not to vomit on Tenzou’s carpet. 

“It’s almost like we’re shinobi or something,” Yuugao says dryly, as she pours the rest of the pot into the last mug and holds it out to Seitarou. “Here, Cap, I’ll get you some tea. Tenzou's got this great variety from Shimo or something that he never drinks.”

The sun is steadily rising beyond the window and Itachi has barely said two sentences, but he finds himself reluctant to leave. 

Kakashi nods at him as he falls into step on the main street leading to the Tower. "For me? You shouldn't have."

Itachi passes him the second of the travel mugs Yuugao pressed into his hands before he could extract himself from Tenzou's flat. "Tea from Shimo," he reports. "Compliments of Tenzou-san and Yuugao-san."

Kakashi hums, inhaling the steam from the cup gently. Sunlight dapples his pale hair, bright in the shade of the trees overhead. "Learn anything about the team?"

Itachi learned absolutely nothing of strategic importance from the time Kakashi knocked on his door until now, except for the location of Tenzou's flat. Productively, he could have spent the night reviewing the personnel files for the team and going over Ro-Han's old mission reports. 

But he did learn that that Hoheto likes to pretend to be above the typically somewhat childish Anbu antics of its teenaged cohort but hoards opportunities to escape the suffocating hand of his Clan. He learned that Seitarou has two older kunoichi sisters who smother him with affection and expectations and that he consumed alcohol for the first time last night. He learned that Yuugao is either in a relationship with or wants to be in a relationship with Gekkou Hayate, that she likes her liquor strong and smooth, and that although she likes to torment her teammates she will also make them coffee in the morning. He learned that if Tenzou were forced to retire from active duty he would choose to become a librarian, that he's comfortable enough with his team to allow them in his own sanctuary despite his past, and that he thinks the world of Kakashi. 

So Itachi says, "Yes," and despite Kakashi's non-reaction he can tell that his former captain is pleased by this answer. 

He has by now deciphered that Kakashi, having seen another Uchiha prodigy 'flame out' as the articles describe the spectacular implosion, and being aware of Itachi's somewhat self-isolation, is taking advantage of their situation to ensure that Itachi feels like part of Konoha by sharing with him his own team, his own social circles. It's not necessary. Itachi is content to watch from a distance, to admire the beauty that is Konoha in peacetime from afar. That he can contribute to such a peace is Itachi's greatest purpose. 

Maybe this is his way of convincing Itachi to want to be the Godaime, that it is Itachi who is best suited to be the next Hokage. If so, then he is failing. After watching the way that Kakashi's team and his peers revolve around him unconsciously, Itachi sees now that the Sandaime is right -- Kakashi isn't meant to be a thing of the shadows; he's meant to lead in the brightness of day.

Surrounding every star is the void of night, and Itachi will be the darkness that allows that light to shine. 

Kakashi crinkles his eye at Itachi and raises his tea a little as they enter the Tower. "Maa. Let's work hard again today," Itachi-kun," he says.

"Yes," Itachi agrees, accepting the implicit challenge. 

Mission: start. 


	2. The Diving Hawk, Illuminated by the Golden Sunlight, Casting a Shadow With Its Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be attending a semi formal dinner at the Hyuuga Main House residence tomorrow night, and I can bring a guest,” Kakashi says. “I can’t formally order you to come, of course.” He looks at Itachi expectantly.
> 
> “I see,” says Itachi, and shuts the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's some pesky plot to get out of the way so we can get back to the fluff

Itachi reaches the Hokage's office ten minutes before his assigned time to report in the morning and finds the rather unexpected sight of Kakashi already present and quite chipper. The Hokage, by contrast, looks tired. " -- cut down or eliminate time needed to process the report after submission -- good morning, Itachi-kun -- because I can do both," Kakashi is saying as Itachi bows his greeting to the Hokage. 

The Sandaime's pipe is already lit and in his mouth, lazy curls spiralling towards the ceiling as he regards Kakashi with grim weariness. "No," the Sandaime says.

"I'm fully qualified, Hokage-sama. I have a versatile skillset and the best mission record in Anbu," Kakashi points out. "Itachi doesn't leave for his mission until later in the week -- that's enough time for me to complete the mission."

"Kakashi-kun," says the Sandaime. "I will not send you undercover as a geisha to seduce a minor lord in Rice just because you do not wish to attend the Civilian Complaints Committee meeting."

"I would make a radiant geisha, Hokage-sama," Kakashi argues earnestly. 

The Sandaime closes his eyes just a fraction of a second too long to call a blink. 

Konoha’s government administration is a hulking beast in its own right, with countless ticking parts that keep it and the village running. It employs thousands of both civilians and shinobi, civilian maintenance workers and noble clan lawmakers alike, in issues that have no involvement in military matters at all. Policies, economics, welfare programs for civilians, families of the deceased, and retired or disabled shinobi all are drafted and revised and finalized within its depths. Everything the administration passes must go through the Hokage’s office for final approval, as only the Hokage holds executive power.

Itachi and Kakashi are now part of that last piece of the massive machine. Unfortunately, this means that Itachi’s day is now, rather than eighty percent training or missions, eighty percent paperwork and meetings. 

As a mission team leader and especially as an Anbu captain, Itachi has filled out reports and forms and requisitions. Intellectually, he knew that the paperwork had to go somewhere and had to be processed by someone, but now he is that person who has to read  _ ‘lost kunai 45x shuriken 13x + Anbu standard katana broken’ _ scribbled on a scrap of paper towel as an expense report. He writes out the information into the proper form, circles the line at the bottom for the captain's signature, and staples the paper towel to the form. It all goes into a plain envelope in his outbox for the courtier to deliver. 

He reaches for the next in his inbox, but instead a steaming cup of tea slides into the empty space on his desk. He glances up at Kakashi, who gives him an automatic eye-crinkle. "Don't look so down, Itachi-kun," he says. "There's always the Civilian Complaints Committee meeting if you want to switch."

Itachi hides his grimace and reaches for the tea. "No, thank you," he says politely. Irate civilians have a tendency towards loss of composure that makes that particular committee chaotic and headache-inducing. The Sandaime has a nearly imperceptible increase in pipe-smoking frequency and duration after each meeting.

Kakashi's eye goes a little blank. "Ah well," he says distantly, and then adds, vaguely threatening, “You have next time. See you in the afternoon.”

The Sandaime has already left, and the rafters are empty of his guards. With Kakashi’s departure, Itachi is alone in the Hokage’s office. It is a bright morning, and sunlight streams through the windows and warms the air around him. It is not a particularly large room -- not as large as some of the shinobi briefing rooms or even the conference room adjacent -- but now it is hollow and cavernous and still.

He and Kakashi have desks alongside the Sandaime’s own that are side by side, _ 'just like in the Academy,' _ as Kakashi had observed brightly and with no small amount of irony. Much of their workload is shared, making it inconvenient if they were forced to cross the room every time they had to pass a folder to each other: for example, Itachi will read and annotate a proposal and pass it to Kakashi to do the same. Kakashi will pass it back once he had finished, and once they are both satisfied they will submit the edits to the Hokage for further discussion. 

It is a tedious process and requires the acquisition of an entirely different skillset from that of a combat shinobi, but the Hokage is understandably adamant that they are exposed to every aspect of Konoha’s government. It is work, but it is also learning. Itachi fills his own deficits in knowledge with heavy tomes on law and policy which used to reside on the Hokage’s office bookshelves but which now spend most of their time on Itachi’s or Kakashi’s desks. The next undisturbed hours are spent in those pages and on the tower of unfinished paperwork in his and Kakashi’s inboxes, and by the time the sun passes its zenith, the pile in Kakashi's inbox is considerably higher than Itachi's. 

Itachi is allocated two hours for a midday break, but as he is a shinobi expected to maintain his skills, it cannot strictly be called a lunch break. He makes his way out of the Tower, the brush of the wind against his face welcome after hours of stagnant air indoors.

Yuugao slides in next to him the second he steps out of the Hokage Tower, and he slants a sideways glance at her. "Morning, Cap," she greets easily. "Rookie's doing a food run, Hyuuga's detangling himself from his Clan, and Sempai's doing some bureaucratic nonsense at HQ, so I'm here to collect you."

Itachi does not recall scheduling any meeting or training exercise with the Anbu team. He was simply planning to take the bento in his pocket out to a free training ground and eat after a solitary training session. "Collect me," he repeats. 

"Yeah," says Yuugao, as if it were obvious. "Sempai got your schedule for today, the rest of us were free too, so the rookie's getting the food. For lunch." She pauses at his silence and neutral expression and adds dryly, "You do eat, right? Seitarou's trolling the other new recruits, saying you don't need to. It'll be really embarrassing for him if it turns out to be true."

"I do eat," says Itachi blankly. It seems like a grievous breach in security that someone was able to acquire the schedule of one of the Sandaime's personal aides, and he ponders that right up until he senses Kakashi's chakra next to Hoheto's when they near Training Ground Nineteen. 

"Captain," greets Hoheto stiffly as they approach. When Kakashi beams at him without changing expression and Yuugao clears her throat meaningfully with a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, he gives a nearly silent and rather refined sigh and grudgingly amends the greeting to, "...Cap."

"Hoheto-san," Itachi returns, since it is only polite and he does not believe it will be worth the effort to argue his new moniker. It has not diminished in apparent persistence in the past days. "Kakashi-sempai." 

"Itachi-kun, nice day out, hm?" Kakashi says. "Aren't you glad the kids wanted to have a picnic?"

Training Ground Nineteen is heavily wooded, the kind used by teams that are more inclined for hunting than full frontal combat. It is cold and dark under the cover of the trees, with only hints of sunshine and blue skies peeking out from behind the branches. There is very little that would change except perhaps the dampness if the weather did become inclement

"I love picnics," agrees Yuugao blithely. "Here's the food. And the rookie." 

"Hi, Captain. Hi, Cap," says Seitarou breathlessly as he trots up, bulging bags hanging from both hands. "Hoheto-sempai, Yuugao-sempai." The warm fragrance of charred pork drifts up from his burden, along with the cleaner scents of miso soup and steamed rice. 

"Extra green onions," Kakashi notes. After a needlessly long pause, he adds, "Good."

Seitarou lights up like a ninken puppy that had been praised for following a basic command. "T-thank you," he stammers. "Captain. For, uh -- yeah. I got. Extra green onions."

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. Yuugao turns a stifled giggle into a cough. Hoheto stares off into the forest with another silent sigh for patience at teenaged antics. 

"We don't even need to get you drunk for blackmail," notes Yuugao mildly, sounding impressed, and Seitarou slowly turns red, his mouth clamped shut.

"Sorry I'm late," says Tenzou as he drops out of the trees, rescuing Seitarou from further misery. "Walked straight into an ambush. Keitatsu-san from Processing was lecturing a bunch of greenhorns on proper submission of paperwork and made me explain every single thing I wrote on the requisition document. Even the  _ date." _ His voice lilts up at the end, aggravation tipping his even tone. 

"Maa, Tenzou, you know those are tricky," Kakashi drawls. "They're different every day."

Tenzou gives Kakashi a dull stare.

"As we are all present," cuts in Hoheto, pinched around the eyes, "perhaps we could eat."

"Seconded," says Yuugao immediately. They both turn to look at Tenzou expectantly.

Tenzou heaves a very put-upon sigh and says, "All right, fine, give me a minute."

It seems very strange to Itachi that they are asking Tenzou for permission to eat until he realizes they are not. Tenzou flashes through a series of seals, his chakra bulging around him, and slams his hands into the ground. Branches reach out from the trees around them and roots spring up out of the ground, coalescing into a flat wooden floor that rises beneath them and a roof that stretches overhead. Seitarou yelps, scrambling for purchase, but the others exhude nothing but patience as a tiny, single-storey pagoda without walls forms around them. 

Tenzou sits back with a sigh as the others crane their heads up to look at the arched ceiling.

"Wow," Seitarou breathes, blinking around at the interior of the structure.

"Not bad," Yuugao says appreciatively. "Anbu is lucky to have you, Tenzou-sempai."

"Name another Anbu operative who regularly is assigned D-rank training ground maintenance missions because they're the only one who can regrow trees," Tenzou retorts, more resigned than resentful. 

"You are underappreciated," Hoheto assures him regally, which seems to mollify him.

Itachi blinks up at the sloping ceiling, a fleeting frown furrowing his eyebrows. Training grounds are expected to take damage, but he has yet to hear of someone constructing a semi-permanent structure on a public one without express permission. 

"Don't worry," says Tenzou, catching his look. "I'll put it back when we're done."

"Tenzou-kun is very useful," says Kakashi, patting the nearest pillar. 

"Your ability in the field is incomparable," Itachi agrees.

Silence greets this proclamation. Tenzou turns slightly pink around the ears. "I. Ah."

"Wow," says Yuugao, giving both Itachi and Tenzou an impressed look. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him."

Itachi is not particularly comfortable with this sudden, unprovoked scrutiny and says nothing. Seitarou's mouth has fallen slack, and Hoheto reaches over, long-suffering, to close it for him with two fingers. 

"Let's eat," Kakashi interjects before Itachi can concoct an excuse to vacate this meeting and the staring of the team. "Some of us have had a long morning full of loud civilians and will have a longer afternoon of paper-pushing to look forward to, and I'd like to get in a good spar before then."

Itachi had looked over the Hokage’s schedule in the morning, but his secretary must have adjusted it in the time since. The first afternoon appointment, instead of an intelligence team focusing on Kumogakure affairs, is with representatives from the Konoha Military Police. Itachi discovers this when Minari, the tokujo who serves as the Hokage's visible guard, knocks on the conference room door, sticks her head in, and announces, "The KMP captain with Officers Tatami and Aburame for your two-thirty, Hokage-sama."

Itachi doesn't react, not visibly, but suddenly, simply breathing requires a great deal more effort. His duties mean that he would cross paths with KMP leadership eventually, but he had not considered that an imminent occurrence. He should have -- somehow -- prepared. Opposite him, Kakashi's eye skates past his face to watch the door in a way that keeps Itachi in his peripheral vision. 

The Hokage either doesn’t notice, or more likely, chooses not to comment. “Thank you, Minari-kun,” he says. “Please show them in.”

The chief of police appears straight-backed in the doorway, her dark hair swept up into a neat ponytail. "Hokage-sama," she greets with a bow, and the two officers behind her bow as well. 

"Mikoto-san," replies the Sandaime.

Uchiha Mikoto is a kunoichi and a consummate professional. She does not look at Itachi or Kakashi as she straightens, waiting on the Hokage’s command to speak. She is as a matter of course wearing the standard flak jacket, the blue-black uniform with the emblem of the Konoha Military Police emblazoned on the shoulders, and her saihai at her waist. It has been three years since she gained her office, three years since the Uchiha fan was replaced by a plain crimson circle -- a blood moon -- to commemorate the tragedy of that night, and she wears it easily. 

Itachi doesn't stare and his Sharingan is certainly not active but her image sears itself into his eyes and his memory. There are new lines around her eyes and mouth, a grimmer set to them both than the soft, warm aura of calm that she had always worn at home but she is to his eyes still effortlessly graceful.

“You have a report on the ‘Whispering Crown’ case,” notes the Sandaime, peering down at the packet of papers before him and flipping through the pages. “You also wished to discuss security arrangements for the nobles from Shimo arriving in one week.”

“Hai,” confirms Mikoto.

The Sandaime glances up. “Please sit,” he invites. “I imagine this will take some time.”

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” says Mikoto, dipping her head gracefully and taking a seat. Her subordinates, Tatami Iwashi and an Aburame with whom Itachi is unfamiliar with, sit as well on either side of her.

Itachi and Kakashi each have copies of the report. Kakashi is paying attention with polite interest, milder than the laser focus he has on missions. Itachi skims through the pages himself, but he is painfully aware of the KMP officers on the other side of the table. 

"As you may recall," Mikoto begins, "KMP has a task force working on the weapons and intelligence leak that resulted in an interrupted diplomatic mission to Yu no Kuni and the deaths of four of our shinobi. The leak is believed to be part of a wider compromise facilitated by noble elements in Kaminari, and potentially Kumogakure itself. This case has been designated as 'Whispering Crown' and is currently in its fifteenth day of investigation."

The Sandaime is frowning, but only distantly. He is staring down at the page with the names and demographics of the casualties, his eyes old as though the memory of each name is another weight on his shoulders. 

“I would like to request six warrants for arrest and accompanying search-and-seizure warrants at this time,” Mikoto continues briskly. “Four suspects are shinobi. Two are civilian, but given that Konoha Military Police is spearheading this investigation, I thought it expedient to request those at the same time and pass them along to the Konoha Police Force to serve.”

The Sandaime nods. “There is precedent,” he allows. “Please continue.” 

Mikoto turns to Iwashi, a clear signal. “I’ll discuss the civilian warrants first, if that’s all right with you, Hokage-sama,” says Iwashi, opening a notebook and the stapled report before him. 

“Quite all right,” agrees the Sandaime.

“The first suspect is Momoto Wataru, age thirty-five. He is the proprietor of a drinking establishment called the Crimson Dove in the Chichihachi District, which is colloquially known as a, er, red light district, Hokage-sama. That is, ah -- ”

“I am aware,” the Sandaime says serenely. 

Iwashi’s eyes flick to Kakashi, who Itachi is fairly sure just swallowed a smirk, before clearing his throat awkwardly. “He has been on the KMP and KPF watchlists for smuggling and illicit shinobi contracting, but a search-and-seizure by the KPF two months ago came up clean. Rinzaki Chokachi, age nineteen, is a flower street hawker in the Chichihachi, who is connected with the Crimson Dove in both employment and leisure capacities. Officially, she buses tables. Momoto and Rinzaki both made large purchases, including an apartment by each and expensive clothing, after the incident. Momoto was reportedly heard telling acquaintances that, quote, ‘shinobi think they be so mighty when a drunken dove can pop their secret plans like a cherry. Those fat rich pansies that hire the idiots think they’re untouchable but they ain’t,’ end quote.” 

The Sandaime taps a hand against his chin. “This is at most circumstantial,” he notes.

“We believe questioning and an extensive search of the properties will turn up more substantial evidence,” Mikoto says.

The Sandaime nods, his eyes sharp on his own copy of the reports. “And the shinobi suspects?” he asks after a pause.

“Chuunin Yamashiro Akari, age twenty-nine,” recites Iwashi, spreading out onto the conference table the registration photos of the implicated shinobi. “Has been a shinobi for seventeen years and a chuunin for six years. Chuunin Yamashiro Akira, age thirty-one. Shinobi for nineteen years and chuunin for nine. Genin Shibatsu Tentori, age fourteen. Shinobi for two years. Tokubetsu jounin Chihara Kokako, age twenty-nine. Shinobi for eighteen years, tokubetsu jounin for three years, chuunin for ten years.”

“Akira-kun and Akari-kun’s mother died in the Kyuubi attack, and their father was caught in the crossfire in the KMP massacre,” the Sandaime says slowly, resting his chin on clasped hands, and his weathered eyes close. “Kokako-kun wished to join the Sealing Division. Tentori-kun’s dream was to become the Jounin Commander.” He nods slowly, gravely, and when he opens his eyes they are hard. He is not just the grandfatherly figure who has watched these shinobi grow up and rise in the ranks; he is their military commander, their Kage. “What have you found?” he directs at Iwashi. 

“We reviewed the reports from the ambushed teams and cross-referenced the sequence of events with the extraction team who responded to their distress signals as well as every team known to have a mission in the vicinity,” explains Iwashi. “Summarized in pages twelve thru twenty-eight for your convenience. We also pulled the list of off-duty shinobi for travel records and sent out probes to covert intelligence operatives stationed in Yu. Yamashiro Akari and Yamashiro Akira both submitted vacation requests for two weeks, with a reported intended destination of Shimo. Upon their return, they were observed with unreported injuries, including what appears to be a stab wound from a wakizashi blade through Akira’s left shoulder. As you may recall, noted in page nine, one of the two surviving chuunin reports landing such a blow on one of their assailants.

“Chihara Kokako and her apprentice Shibatsu Tentori submitted reports stating that they departed Yarou after their delivery mission’s completion,” Iwashi continues, flipping impersonally through the comprehensive report before him. “However, a restaurant proprietor reported seeing them two days later coming from a different inn in the city, which is not logged in the expense reports. Their continued presence overlaps with the ambush timeframe. Furthermore, Kokako has been on the same genin team as Akari after the promotion of her first two teammates and until her own promotion.” 

The frown lines in the Sandaime’s face deepen, but he says heavily. “Very well. I will sign the warrants.”

The Aburame officer presents them silently, and Itachi, Kakashi, and the three KMP officers bear witnesses as the Hokage signs and stamps each warrant in turn. When he finishes, there is no hesitation as he collects them into a neat stack and passes them back to the Aburame. 

“Once the arrests have been made, this will be a cooperative effort with the Konoha Military Police, the Konoha Police Force, and the Torture and Interrogation Division,” says Mikoto. “We will keep you apprised of the updates on this case, Hokage-sama.” 

“I expect nothing less,” says the Sandaime. “And for the second topic?”

Itachi pays attention to the words, of course -- regarding the security detail and lodgings for the minor noble lord and lady from Shimo who will be staying in Konohagakure for three days before continuing on to Hi no Kuni’s capital city. However, he will admit that part of his focus is diverted to observation of his mother. 

She used to be a jounin in the KMP until she gave birth to Itachi, but she carried a hachiwari instead of the solid steel saihai that hangs at her waist now. She pitches her voice differently, poised rather than demure, and her dark eyes are steady and sure when she leads them through the danger analysis.

She glows in a way she never did when her focus was solely on raising himself and Sasuke. He can see her drive, her sense of purpose. Grief may have weathered her, but she is a kunoichi through and through, competent and confident in this unwanted but embraced role as the captain of the military police. She has always been a protector, and she is perhaps better now, even without Itachi’s father. 

Itachi understands death and tragedy intimately, but until the one that broke his family and decimated his Clan, he did not truly know loss. Grief is a fire, a pyre, but it can also be a forge. For Itachi, it became a torch and a wall and a memorial candle for an unknowing failure. Itachi was hundreds of kilometers away from Konoha and completely unawares when his best friend assassinated a high elder councilman, slaughtered the entire military police division, and razed their clan compound to the ground.

Itachi can do many things, but he cannot tell his little brother that their father is dead because Itachi was too preoccupied with assassinating a burgeoning drug lord in Kusagakure to be at home to defend their family. 

"Thank you, Mikoto-san," says the Sandaime as the meeting draws to a close. "Anything further?"

Mikoto's eyes drift past Itachi, just a millisecond of hesitation that would have made his heart stutter in his chest if at all physiologically possible. "Nothing further, Hokage-sama," she says.

Like a stray cat, Yuugao shows up again once Itachi had been released for the day. "Hi, Cap," she says, hands stuffed in the pockets of her off-duty uniform pants as she saunters out from a side street when Itachi is three blocks from his apartment. 

"Yuugao-san," Itachi responds politely. 

She crooks a smile at him. "You can just call me Yuugao-kun, if you want." Itachi blinks and she adds, "Yuugao-chan works too. Or just Yuugao, if you'd rather not be so familiar."

"Yuugao," says Itachi, and then pauses. Such a gesture usually requests a reciprocal, but Itachi has never been so familiar with another, particularly someone older than him.

"I'll keep calling you Cap, if you don't mind," she says, nonchalant, rendering his pondering moot. "It's got a nice ring to it. Anyways, there's a little thing I do when I get a new classmate or teammate, and it's that I take them out to dinner. So: do you have plans tonight, Cap?"

"No," says Itachi reflexively before realizing the implicit invitation and subsequent acceptance. 

"Good," says Yuugao, the corners of her lips curling up again. "Come on, Cap. Do you have anything against sashimi?"

And that is the sequence of events that brings Itachi to a small table across from Yuugao, platters of sliced fish between them as the Nakano River flows lazily past outside the window. Evening is just beginning to fall, rosy sunlight spilling down to shimmer across the water's surface. Yuugao is objectively beautiful with facial features considered attractively proportionate, and the golden light gives her an aura of otherworldliness. She is Anbu; like every other feature in her arsenal, she weaponizes her physical appearance to devastating effect. 

But despite the nature of their work as shinobi, Yuugao is off-duty and so is he, and the unspoken understanding what that entails and of each other is something Itachi has come to anticipate and welcome. “You have a brother,” says Yuugao, the first words either of them have spoken since ordering their food. The setting sun reflects in her eyes as she turns back from her absent contemplation of the river. When Itachi nods, she says, “I have a sister.”

“I did not know that,” says Itachi after a beat, as such a statement seemed to expect a response. Yuugao’s eyes are fond.

“Gazeru,” she elaborates, the name soft on her tongue. “She’s three years younger than me, and she’s the only family I have left. She wants to specialize in sealing; she’s in the Anbu trainee corps.” She slants a look over at him. “I normally don’t tell anyone that, but your clearance is -- ” she waves a hand to escapulate the fact that Itachi’s clearance is now exceeded by only the Hokage and very few others, “ -- and she’s nearly graduated, but she’s still stuck in the trainee dorms.”

“It is not usual for siblings to be admitted to the Anbu trainee corps,” Itachi notes. “Recruiters have a tendency to choose orphans with no other familial ties.” 

"My father was on a mission in Kaze no Kuni a month before my sister was born,” says Yuugao. “His team was ambushed two kilometers from the border. His teammates carried him back all the way to the hospital, but the medic-nin couldn’t save him. My mother got taken off the Reserves after the Kyuubi attack, but she died on her first mission back. Gazeru and I were in the orphanage for four months when the recruiter came for me.” Her eyes are distant, fixed on the river outside. “The Hokage was with him. I was so overwhelmed but Gazeru was everything I had, so I told him I would only go with him if my sister could come too. Sandaime-sama smiled at me and said, ‘That is the Will of Fire.’ So the recruiter took us both away.” She lets the silence between them sit as she helps herself to the fish. The sun is disappeared over the horizon now, and besides the glow of electric lights against pale skin and dark eyes there is not much he can see of her. 

“You’re not a Corps brat, Cap," Yuugao says, when the fish is mostly gone and they are left nursing their tea next to the dark waters that ripple when the wind picks up. "How’d you end up in Anbu so young?”

“Sandaime-sama sponsored my entry when I was eleven,” Itachi answers. “I had been a chuunin for a year and without a permanent team. My father approved of the transition, though he had been expecting me to join the Konoha Military Police."

"You're the Uchiha heir," Yuugao observes. "It would have made sense for you to join the military police. Wouldn't you -- aren't you still technically next in line to become the KMP Captain?"

"I am heir mostly in name," Itachi admits. "My father told me I would begin my duties and attend Clan meetings once I reached the rank of jounin, but I joined Anbu before I did. I would have attended my first meeting once my Anbu probationary period ended, but -- " the words unexpectedly stick in his throat, and he forces them out grimly, " -- the entirety of the KMP was killed before that happened. Considering my current position, it is likely that my brother will succeed my mother as Captain and quite possibly Clan Head unless she chooses another outside the clan for the former."

"That's rough," says Yuugao, pouring him a refill of tea. "There's nothing saying that you can't be both whatever it is your official title is and Uchiha Clan Head, if you wanted to, though."

Itachi does not want to. His clan deserves a leader who will be there to lead and protect it but Konoha requires his services as well, and for him, the call from Konoha will always come first. He takes a sip from his cup. The tea is strong and aromatic and sweet, steadying and cleansing. It grounds him before he is even aware that he was adrift and brings him firmly back to the present. 

But in any case, Yuugao has no desire to continue the same track of conversation. “Hey,” she says, light and casual and just the slightest bit sly. “Got any good dirt on the captain?”

Itachi is back in his apartment for fifteen minutes after dinner and the conversation with Yuugao that took a bizarre turn once disclosure of an incident involving several dozen crates of ground chili pepper came to light when someone knocks on his door. Itachi considers ignoring it in favor of a shower, but the chakra that flares politely on the opposite side belongs to Kakashi. He opens the door.

“I’ll be attending a semi formal dinner at the Hyuuga Main House residence tomorrow night, and I can bring a guest,” Kakashi says. “I can’t formally order you to come, of course.” He looks at Itachi expectantly.

“I see,” says Itachi, and shuts the door. 

Kakashi is unfortunately but unsurprisingly not deterred and knocks again. Itachi is equally unfortunately compelled to avoid impropriety and therefore is forced to open the door again on Kakashi’s third attempt. “Ah, Itachi-kun,” says Kakashi, crinkling his eye. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” says Itachi. 

“I’m sure I could give you a compelling reason,” Kakashi says as Itachi goes to close the door again. 

Itachi pauses despite himself, because that’d had an uncomfortably ominous edge. “Yes?” he says, with impending regret. 

“As a ward of the Hyuuga Clan, Uzumaki Naruto will likely be present. I would want to tell Naruto-kun all about a stellar shinobi such as yourself,” Kakashi explains pleasantly. “He needs positive role models, and you are certainly one example. In the absence of any, shall we call it ‘moderating influences’ in my enthusiasm to provide him with a role model, I may accidentally let slip your current address, and, well, I’m sure you know how excitable Naruto-kun can be. No sense of boundaries, that one.”

Itachi gives him a grim stare and silence. Hatake Kakashi does not make threats. Hatake Kakashi makes promises. And Itachi has none of the leverage on him as he apparently has on Itachi. 

“As the Hokage’s personal aide, it’s a good time to present yourself as one to Hiashi-sama, instead of simply a member of the Uchiha Clan,” Kakashi adds, generously providing an avenue for an easy concession instead of demanding a forced surrender. 

Given the circumstances, however, Itachi admits he may be a little brusque when he replies, “I will consider it,” and shuts the door on Kakashi again. 

The Hyuuga estates are very precise. The trees and shrubbery are trimmed with an intense eye for detail, the stones beneath their feet smooth and uncracked, the flowers and vines lining the path bright and vibrant. The buildings are to the one a pale cream, trimmed in dark wood, and immaculate. Nestled in the greenery are koi ponds with burbling streams, elegant zen gardens, and training grounds of packed dirt ringed by grass.

The Hyuuga guard who let them through the gate and escorted them to the Main House pauses just inside the second set of gates in front of the largest structure. "Please go ahead," she says, stepping aside to let them past. "Hiashi-sama will be expecting you."

Itachi nods. Kakashi says, "Thank you," shifts his shoulders a little like he is preparing for battle, and steps forward when she leaves. The door opens about fifteen seconds after Kakashi's initial knock. 

Hiashi himself is on the other side, in his customary robes and hair falling loose about his shoulders. There is nobody behind him, but Itachi can hear the small, still-untrained footsteps echoing deeper in the house. “Welcome to our home,” says Hiashi, inclining his head.

“Your invitation was very kind,” says Kakashi, returning the gesture. “You have met Uchiha Itachi? He is working in a similar position as I am for the Hokage.”

Itachi bows. “I hope I have not inconvenienced you.”

“You are a welcomed guest; there is no inconvenience,” Hiashi assures him. “Please, come in.”

The Hyuuga and Uchiha Clans, contrary to popular belief, have no particular vitriol towards each other. The true animosity was between only Uchiha Fugaku and Hyuuga Hiashi, who fostered a bitter rivalry in their Academy days that mellowed over time but never truly petered out. Given that Uchiha Fugaku is dead, the only abnormal reception Itachi receives is that of a vague sympathy. 

But as Kakashi said, Itachi is not here as an Uchiha, but as Kakashi’s guest and, tangentially, one of the Hokage’s aides. Like Kakashi, he wears formal robes, sans the Uchiha crest, that slide over his skin as they follow their host through the maze of hallways. Electric lights give the walls a warm glow, but the walls are otherwise bare; for all the casual elegance of the gardens, the building interior speaks to a more utilitarian aesthetic. 

They don't go into the dining room immediately. Itachi meets Kakashi's eye and both of them politely ignore the faint, frantic scrabbling behind the set of double doors that Hiashi pauses in front of. Hiashi does not activate his doujutsu, but once he opens the door the three adults and four children on the other side wearing elegant if plain robes are standing in two more -- the adults -- or less -- the children -- neat rows in front of the prepared table. Hiashi turns smoothly to face Itachi and Kakashi.

"My elder daughter, Hinata, and her caretaker, Kou," Hiashi announces. "My youngest, Hanabi, and her caretaker, Natsu."

The four named bow neatly in unison. Hanabi wobbles a little but finds her balance quickly, peering up at them with too-serious eyes. Hinata avoids eye contact entirely.

"These are Neji and Naruto, and their caretaker Maizuku," Hiashi continues.

Naruto comes up from his bow too quickly and would have slammed the back of his head into Maizuku's chin if the kunoichi hadn't jerked back in time, snapping upright in a less-than-graceful movement. Her face remains stone-smooth even as Naruto breaks into a sheepish grin and Neji looks as though he would like nothing more than to close his eyes and pray for patience. 

"It's very good to meet you all," Kakashi says, his eye curving into a smile. 

"Why you only got one eye?" Naruto blurts. This time, Neji does close his eyes briefly before opening them again to glare sideways at the other boy. 

Maizuku inhales, a reprimand clearly on her tongue as she glances lightning-fast at Hiashi's expressionless face, but before she can say anything, Kakashi answers, "I didn't eat my vegetables so it rotted and fell out."

Maizuku closes her mouth, faintly bemused. Naruto's jaw drops open.  _ "Wicked,"  _ he breathes. Neji's glare turns derisive.

Kou frowns and says, "Kakashi-san -- "

"It's true, you can ask Itachi-kun," Kakashi says blithely at the same time, then adds, "Apologies for interrupting, Kou-san."

"The blunder is mine," Kou says automatically, his brow furrowed in slight confusion, as Itachi finds himself pinned by the curious gazes of four children in a gradient of timidity. 

"Well?" Naruto demands of Itachi with morbid fascination. "Did it really?"

Itachi blinks and looks around for help, because his options are: lying to small children; or: exposing his superior and former captain for lying to small children. Kakashi twinkles innocently at him. All four adult Hyuuga stare blankly back at Itachi, even Hiashi. Itachi revises his assessment of a lack of animosity between Uchiha and Hyuuga to the presence of animosity between Uchiha and Hyuuga, because Itachi would not have been abandoned to this predicament unless malice were a factor. "Lack of nutrition can cause atrophy of muscle and other body tissues," he manages at last. 

Naruto's eyes bulge, and Hinata's are not far behind. Hanabi is frowning, her face scrunched up minutely, and Neji looks faintly scandalized.

"Dinner has been prepared," Hiashi belatedly intervenes, ending the stalemate before Itachi can finalize plans for an escape that would not result in him being blacklisted in all matters Hyuuga for the next decade. 

"Lovely," Kakashi says cheerfully, and crinkles his eye at Itachi.

Kakashi doesn't necessarily loosen his clothing or muss up his hair, but his posture adopts a more leisurely bonelessness to reflect his relative relaxation when he and Itachi finally depart the Hyuuga Compound. “Cute kids,” he comments, his uncovered eye sliding over to Itachi before returning to the streets ahead of them. The crescent moon hangs in a starry sky, and even just that sliver gives the streets around them a warm cast.

Itachi nods. "Naruto-kun seems to be adapting well," he offers. He seemed quite comfortable even in the stiff environment; perhaps more accurately, it seemed as though his caretakers had instead adapted to him.

“The Clan Elders wanted to give Naruto-kun the Caged Bird Seal,” Kakashi says conversationally. “They cited his history of willful behavior and potential for loss of control.”

Itachi has no great interest in fuinjutsu, but he admits his first reaction is that of an intellectual curiosity -- how would that notoriously invasive seal interact with the seal keeping the Kyuubi bound? What would be the political repercussions of the Hyuuga Clan claiming more or less absolute power over Konoha's jinchuuriki?

“They did not,” Itachi observes. Naruto had been bright and talkative throughout the meal despite his taciturn companions, his forehead conspicuously bare unlike Neji beside him. 

“Mm,” agrees Kakashi. “Hiashi-sama lobbied for support on his Clan council and blocked them. Officially, his rationale is that Naruto already belongs to a clan, even if it is defunct, and is only a ward of the Hyuuga. Additionally, the Main House Hyuuga are arguably the experts on seals in this Village what with their Clan seals and Hiashi as the captain of the Barrier Division, and as their verdict that there are no weaknesses with Naruto's seal is still unchanged, they can't use that as a reason.”

The thought is left dangling, conspicuously, for Itachi to engage, so he says obligingly, “And unofficially?”

“Hiashi-sama is the most progressive Clan Head the Hyuuga have had in generations,” says Kakashi. “He’s been walking a narrow line between liberal and radical since he rose to his position. Not choosing marital matches for his daughters, holding off on Sealing his nephew until his own firstborn turned three, now taking a completely unrelated outsider as a ward -- he’s come under fire in his own Clan before for being too soft. He’s still pushing, seeing how much give he can take.”

It is very political, this manipulation of the pieces on the board who do not yet realize the manner in which their lives are dictated that will influence their futures. Hiashi, Kakashi, even the Sandaime, have now all marked Naruto as a piece to watch, as a piece that holds power. 

"Your brother's around Naruto-kun's age, isn't he?" Kakashi says, seemingly distracted. 

"Yes," agrees Itachi. "He is also eight years of age. I believe they may be in the same Academy class."

"Ah," says Kakashi. "I'm sure they could be great friends."

Itachi, who vividly remembers Sasuke's impassioned, red-cheeked complaints about the loud, clumsy blond boy in the same row as him, who caused Sasuke to storm home fuming three days in a row because of spiders in his backpack or frogs in his desk or glue on his chair, makes a politely dubious noise.

"Naruto is very passionate about becoming a strong shinobi," Kakashi adds. Itachi can feel the strands of a trap begin to tighten and, short of abandoning Kakashi and the conversation abruptly by way of a shunshin, does not see an escape. "Maybe you can give him and Sasuke some pointers, hm? Teach them a little teamwork?"

"Naruto-kun now has the backing of the strongest clan in Konoha," Itachi parries. "The Hyuuga may not take kindly if I were to interfere with the training of their ward."

"Call it a playdate. Babysitting," says Kakashi, unbothered, as he abandons subtlety and glances over to meet Itachi's eyes. "It'll be good for you to get out more, do something outside of work or training. Just to spend some time with your brother, even." This is the most pointed Kakashi has gotten thus far in addressing Itachi's self-imposed estrangement, which Itachi credits to the KMP meeting, the Hyuuga dinner event, and their close temporal proximity with each other.

Itachi has been backed into a corner but he does not intend to concede. Kakashi should know better than to attempt such an ambush when his own nonworking hours are spent conversing with ghosts. "What do you do outside of work and training, Kakashi-sempai?" Itachi asks mildly. 

Kakashi stops and looks at him for a long moment. With wordless agreement, they resume walking in silence.

Someone knocks on Itachi's door. What used to be an exceedingly rare occurrence had been increasing exponentially in frequency in the past week, and Itachi is not entirely sure his feelings on this matter. 

It is not Kakashi's chakra that flares on the other side but Tenzou's; Itachi opens the door with palpable relief and some curiosity. 

"Cap," Tenzou says with an apologetic nod. "Sorry for dropping by so late."

He expects entry. Itachi blinks and stands aside so Tenzou can come in. 

"Please make yourself comfortable," says Itachi, closing the door behind him and turning into the kitchen for the teapot. He pauses then because Tenzou has not moved from the door, his eyes fixed on something in Itachi's living room. Itachi's senses snap to full attention but relax again when he recognizes what it is that Tenzou has noticed.

Tenzou drags his eyes back to Itachi with some effort. "You have a cat," he says, the tone mingled question and statement and entirely bemused.

"I have a cat," agrees Itachi, choosing a tin of mild green tea because it is late. 

Tenzou gives the feline in question a nonplussed stare, who ignores the scrutiny and rasps her tongue over her paid. "I have never seen this cat before in my life," he says.

"This cat has likely seen you before," Itachi counters, assembling cups onto a tray as the water boils. "Yuri goes where she pleases and returns when she so desires."

Tenzou pauses. "Ninneko? You don't summon cats on missions."

"She does not participate in missions," explains Itachi, carrying the tray with teapot and cups out to the low table in the living room. Tenzou follows cautiously, settling next to the table, but cannot seem to shift his gaze from Yuri. Yuri, sprawled atop the backrest of the couch, flicks her tail but otherwise does not move, her eyes just slits gleaming in the light. "She does not like to speak and she has no desire for combat."

Tenzou's confusion does not abate. "So, what does she...do?"

"She is a cat," answers Itachi, and pours all three of them a cup of tea. Tenzou appears unnaturally preoccupied with watching Yuri as she rises from her graceful sprawl to land lightly on the table. "Was there a particular reason you sought me out tonight?" Itachi asks, when it becomes apparent that Tenzou will simply watch Yuri lap her tea unless prompted. 

"Ah," Tenzou says, straightening and glancing back to Itachi. "Yes. In regards to the upcoming mission. You've been pretty busy and I have spare time since the team is still on leave, so I thought I'd offer to file the pre-mission requisitions and other paperwork. I know you still have to sign off, but it'll take less time if I help you draft it first. Also," he adds almost as an afterthought, "I've reserved Training Ground 53 for two nights from now. The mission is in three, so it's ideal for a dry run."

Tenzou should be the captain of his own Anbu team by now. He had been Kakashi's Second for several years already; he knows how to run a team and has the strategic intelligence to command effectively. 

"I would appreciate that," Itachi assents. "What is your evaluation of the team's readiness?"

"The members of the team have been familiarizing themselves with each other both in combat simulations and outside of active duty assignments. We've had a few good training sessions together and haven't come across any major problems, and we may not have had a chance to observe Seitarou in a nominally high-stress situation yet, but he performed well enough on the last mission. Overall, I believe we are equipped to handle this mission," Tenzou concludes.

Itachi accepts his assessment. Tenzou has worked with members of the team the longest, as well as with Itachi himself. He has also been on Kakashi's team for most of both their Anbu careers, and as such, Itachi is reminded of his other overlying task. "You have worked with Kakashi-sempai for a significant length of time," Itachi observes aloud. Yuri turns aside from her tea, meandering over to Itachi's lap where she sprawls, a warm, soft weight. Itachi drops a hand down to brush along her thick pelt.

"Eight years," agrees Tenzou without so much as a blink at the abrupt swivel in conversation.

"At no point has he wished to leave Anbu," Itachi says, and when Tenzou nods agreement, adds, "Why?"

"Have you?" Tenzou counters, the corner of his mouth lifting in an ironic smile. "You know the difference between a career Anbu and the rotational Anbu."

Itachi is a rotational Anbu; he has a life outside his Anbu career with duties and responsibilities he is expected to return to that will not facilitate him spending the rest of his shinobi days carrying out black ops missions unless he chooses to forgo them entirely. Tenzou is a career Anbu; he was raised and trained from a young age for the express purpose of running the most dangerous missions for Konoha, and he has no family and few friends outside of Anbu. Kakashi is somewhere in between -- born to a clan, promoted through the Regular Forces, but has been in Anbu six years longer than the typical four for rotational operatives, and his family and genin team are to the one dead. He is probably closer to the typical profile of a career Anbu at this point.

Ah. Kakashi has no desire to retreat from the shadows back into the light because on the outside, there is no one waiting for him. He spent only a year in the Academy, had little opportunity to socialize with others his own age apart from his now deceased genin teammates, and still spends a majority of his time training, working, and/or with his Anbu team.

Itachi will need to rectify this. He will need to engineer a situation in which Kakashi willingly socializes with his non-Anbu peers, and for that, Itachi will need to establish said peers and a motive for socialization. Kakashi has shown an inclination towards his hounds, speaking to his dead teammates, and apparently harbors affection for small children, from Itachi's own recollections. He has not displayed any particular propensity for engaging members of the Inuzuka Clan or their partners, so it is doubtful that Kakashi's fondness for his ninken is translatable to other dogs. Speaking to the dead is unlikely to win anyone a closer bond of friendship, so Itachi latches into the final observation and draws the most logical conclusion:

He needs to acquire a genin team for Kakashi. 

There is no occupation further in the light than that of the jounin sensei. Kakashi will have cause to converse with other jounin sensei, to spend time with children and burgeoning shinobi, and interact with many other citizens on D-ranked missions with the genin, which will all serve as a reminder of what Konoha stands for, what its people must protect. It will be good for Kakashi. Equally importantly, it will be good for Itachi's mission to make Kakashi want to be Hokage. 

Yuri is purring in Itachi's lap as though encouraging him even though his revelations were made only in his own mind, her vibrating rumble soothing as her back presses against his lower abdomen. Tenzou is watching her in silence with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, but he starts when he notices Itachi's gaze fall on him.

"Oh," Tenzou says. "I nearly forgot." From a pouch he produces a small box, similar to a lunch bento, but when he opens it there are a number of brownish disks within. "I made cookies," he announces, offering the box to Itachi. "I didn't want to come empty-handed, showing up unannounced like this so late."

"That is not necessary, but thank you," says Itachi, and takes a cookie from the container. He bites into it.

It is without a doubt the worst cookie Itachi has ever attempted to eat. 

The outside is hard but dusted with crumbs that cloy to his throat like ash, and the inside is still so raw that he could mould it into a second, smaller cookie to rebake if he so desired. He chews. He swallows. He takes a long drink from his cup.

"It's my own recipe," Tenzou says with what Itachi realizes, with sinking dread, is pride. "I think I've finally perfected it."

Itachi takes another sip of tea and tries to think of something to say that is not wildly negative. He sets down the remains of his cookie-thing carefully and suggests, "Perhaps you could try again."

Yuri deigns to spend the night once Tenzou leaves. She is nestled on top of Itachi's blankets when he pads out of the bathroom freshly showered and slightly damp. She stretches luxuriously, her dark stripes curving and elongating, before she flips over to observe him with a bright gaze. 

"Wells you like me to set out some tea for you?" Itachi offers. Yuri blinks liquid eyes at him. Itachi goes into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of tea.

Yuri must have left and come back while Itachi was in the shower, because there is yet another cream card on his dining table that he yet again ignores as he sets the kettle on. Yuri's favorite is chamomile, and he keeps a tin stocked for when she comes. After a moment's consideration, he borrows a bit of dried pork from his backup rations and leaves it in a shallow bowl to soak and soften. 

There’s a quiet thump from his bedroom, then the pad of paws on the hardwood floor. Yuri twines around his ankles and then leaps up onto the counter. “Let it be for a moment,” Itachi tells her as he pours the boiling water over the meat and the tea leaves in their two bowls. Yuri butts her head against his hand affectionately after he sets the kettle down, and he rubs his fingers between his ears. “Did you go see Nekobaa?” he asks. “You gave her my best, I hope.”

Yuri turns in a flash, catching Itachi’s fingers in her teeth in a gentle hold. She gums at him, absently, and then releases him to rub her cheek against his knuckles. He gives her chin a last rub and then she turns away for the pork and the tea.

Neither of them mention the invitation on the table, even when Itachi leaves Yuri in the kitchen to her snack and moves the card to join its fellows in the box on the shelf. Yuri does not judge his actions; he will not judge hers in return. The paper stock leaves a hint of lavender scent on his fingers, summoning up memories of the little sprigs tucked in slender vases around the house. She used to replace them diligently when they withered; she had a standing order with Yamanaka Inoichi's flower shop. 

Does she still now, even though she is an active duty jounin and the captain of the Konoha Military Police? How different is her home now that she spends much of her time outside of it?

He checks his locks and traps methodically and turns out the lights in the kitchen -- Yuri does not care whether it is dark or light, as she is comfortable in either -- and retires to his bedroom. 

The light of the moon glows through the blinds over the window, lighting his way as he gives his weapons and equipment a final check. Yuri returns the second he slips into bed, her body a warm weight as she settles boneless against his shoulder in the dark. He drapes the blanket over them both, reaches over to bury his fingers in her short, thick pelt, and in response she begins to purr. 

He does not sleep immediately, instead turning over in his head the mission to which he has been assigned. 

He is not so naive to think that Kakashi will consent to accepting a genin team without at least light coercion, so Itachi will need at the minimum two things: the agreement and support of the Sandaime, and considerable leverage over Kakashi.

After contemplation, Itachi’s greatest leverage over Kakashi is that Kakashi would never sabotage himself intentionally, no matter how much he does not want the task. This is evidenced by his eventual capitulation to the Hokage's request to train Kakashi as a potential successor. The downside to using this as leverage is that Itachi also will never give less than his full effort, no matter how much he does not want the task, and Kakashi will doubtlessly find a manner in which to exploit that if Itachi chooses to do the same to him. 

In order to level the battlefield, Itachi will need to either generate more leverage over Kakashi or eliminate leverage Kakashi has over him.

Itachi has been on the defensive so far, fielding Kakashi's advances. It is time for Itachi to begin his counterattack.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed on my phone for some of this, so I'll go ahead and blame autofill/autocorrect for any weird typos.


	3. The Lone Swallow, Remembering Its Song From Winters Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Itachi-kun,” says the Sandaime, and Itachi looks up. There are a hundred nuances in the Hokage’s old eyes -- compassion; grief, resolve; steel. “There is work to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...actually this chapter is plot too.

Yuri heralds the start of the new day by affectionately smothering Itachi in his sleep. He wakes choking and reaches up to peel the cat off his face, blinking blearily at her as his body adjusts to the abrupt transition from unconscious to awake. She glares down at him, affronted, as though he had been the one to disturb her slumber. Perhaps he had. 

"Good morning," he tells her, and carefully sets her on the blankets to the side as he sits up. She eels around him to the spot he has just vacated and curls up in the warm dip, eyes slitting closed once more. He drapes her lightly with the blanket and goes to wash up. 

It’s too early for the dawn, but Itachi brews a pot of tea and starts the rice steaming anyways. It’s quiet, the birds not yet awake, and there’s both a comfortable and expectant stillness settled over the Village. He takes his cup of tea to nurse by the window, cracking it open to let the chill wind spill into his flat. He breathes deeply; the air is clean and fresh and rushes easily into his lungs.

Continuing what appears to be a burgeoning tradition, Itachi senses someone hovering outside his front door for a full ten minutes while he returns to the kitchen to set the mackerel to grill and cube tofu for soup. The first hesitant knock finally comes when he has just positioned a stalk of green onion on his chopping board. He sets down the knife, wipes his hands on a towel, and goes to open the door.

“Ohaiyou,” Itachi greets placidly. “Would you like to come in for breakfast?”

“C-Cap,” stutters Seitarou, remarkably startled considering that he had been the one to knock.

Itachi waits. “Would you like to come in for breakfast?” he repeats when it becomes clear that the other shinobi will simply continue to stare wordlessly at him if not further prompted.

Seitarou jumps. “I, uh -- yeah, I’d -- no, it’s too much -- ”

“Come in,” Itachi interrupts, making life simpler for them both. 

“Right,” says Seitarou weakly, and trails him inside with visible trepidation. 

Itachi is aware that his apartment looks perfectly normal for any shinobi in Konoha -- jutsu scrolls and other books on the shelves, weapons tucked away in drawers, functional furnishings with just enough accessories so as to avoid utilitarian. That seems to throw Seitarou for another loop.

“Please sit,” says Itachi, directing him towards the low table in the living room so he can return to the half-cooked food. His soup is beginning to boil violently. 

When Itachi emerges from the kitchen with the prepared dishes, Yuri has deigned to rise and has discovered their new guest. She has two paws on Seitarou's legs while she investigates his face with delicate sniffs, and Seitarou is frozen solid watching her, cross-eyed.

“That is Yuri,” Itachi introduces, setting down the bowls on the table. There are of course three portions of everything except the rice, because Yuri does not eat rice. “Yuri, this is Seitarou-san.”

“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, Yuri-san,” Seitarou whispers, still not moving. Yuri signals her approval of his manners by brushing her tail against his face as she turns to leap up onto the table. 

Itachi has a feeling that bluntly asking,  _ What are you doing here?  _ would send Seitarou back into a nervous tailspin, so instead he says, “Have you a reason for visiting me this morning?” as Yuri places nearly her entire head in her bowl of miso. 

“Ah,” says Seitarou, setting down the bite of mackerel that had made it halfway to his mouth. “Ah...Tenzou-sempai said that I should, ah -- tell you about myself?”

“Hn,” says Itachi. That does sound like a thing Tenzou would do.

“Not -- not that I expected to be invited for -- for breakfast,” Seitarou corrects hastily. “I mean -- I don’t think you’re rude, but -- I was rude, actually, my timing was bad -- ”

“Seitarou-san,” Itachi interrupts before his rambling can get out of hand. “I do not mind your company. Feel free to speak as you wish.”

“Oh,” says Seitarou, and pauses to drain his bowl of soup. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. Uh. Me. So, uh. I’m sixteen, I have two sisters who don’t want me to tell people what their ages are, and Hoshiyo, the middle one, still lives with me and our parents. Poemu’s had her own apartment for a couple of years. I’m pretty sure she’s done at least one Anbu rotation. Ah…” he trails off, eyes darting like he would find the assistance he desires on Itachi’s walls.

Itachi, himself at a loss, decides to default to the well-used basic introductory questions. “You could inform me as to what you find favorable and unfavorable, and your aspirations for the future?”

“Oh! Right,” says Seitarou, hurriedly latching onto the suggestion. “I like...my family, I guess, and being a shinobi, and Konoha -- and all those training grounds with the willow trees that have branches that trail all the way to the ground. There’s a great mochi shop in the eastern marketplace that I really like. Um, you. Uh, my sister Poemu’s place is pretty nice. Oh, and I actually really love sukiyaki -- ”

Itachi doesn’t think Seitarou will wrap up anytime soon unless he is stopped.

“ -- and also music, but I can’t play anything or sing -- I just enjoy listening to it. I guess my favorite color would be purple but not, like, deep purple? More like a blue-ish lilac -- ”

“I do not wish to deprive you of breakfast,” Itachi interrupts, “and I have limited time before I must depart. Perhaps a brief answer will suffice.”

Seitarou’s mouth snaps shut and he flushes again. “A-ah, right. Sorry, Cap. Um.” He collects his thoughts and visibly rallies. “My dislikes are swimming, chocolate ice cream, and goats. My dream is -- ” he shrugged. “To be a good shinobi, I guess. I just want to know that I’m doing something good, you know? Like protecting my home.”

Itachi nods. It is the basic instinct of any loyal shinobi to  _ protect.  _ It is what divides the samurai from the ronin, the soldiers from the mercenaries. “Tell me of your career thus far.”

“I’ve been a chuunin for two years. I’ve been in Anbu for -- four months, maybe?” Seitarou tips his head and frowns. “But that was mostly the basic training and trials.”

“Tenzou says your specialty is infiltration and assassination,” notes Itachi. The mackerel is unseasoned in defence to Yuri, so there is a small saucer of salt in which to dip it. Seitarou nearly upends it in his nervousness.

“Ah,” Seitarou says sheepishly. “Yeah. I do those.”

Assassination specialists are a strange breed -- either they are the friendliest, most innocuous faces or the ones with an eeriness so potent no disguise could hide it. Kakashi could have been one if his tracking ability hadn’t been so prominent. Itachi thinks he could have been one too. 

Seitarou is skittish, more like a rabbit than the cat that stalks it. But Seitarou has blood on his hands already, is a killer more seasoned than most others his age. It might be hard for civilians and shinobi alike to see that of a teenaged not-quite-man who greets a cat politely, but Itachi has never had a problem with his eyes.

Itachi has two days before he and Ro-Han will be deployed on their first mission together. He requests Kakashi’s assistance as recompense for the Hyuuga Dinner Favor in their final team training session. 

“Always happy to put my team through its paces,” Kakashi says cheerfully. “You wanted me to be the prey today?”

“We require a target,” confirms Itachi. 

Kakashi hums. “See you at nine at Training Ground 53, Itachi-kun. I have the new proposal paperwork to file with the Social Welfare Administration Division. Unless you want to come along.”

“Aa, thank you sempai. I will see you at nine o’clock tonight,” says Itachi, who doesn’t want to file someone else’s paperwork, particularly considering the unfinished pile on his own desk. 

Kakashi sighs, morose, and lifts a hand in a lazy salute as he heads for the stairs. Itachi goes back to filtering through invoices.

The Sandaime is spending an extended midday break at home with his family for his daughter’s birthday. As the sun reaches its peak outside the window, Itachi takes the darkest inner staircase to the third basement of the Hokage Tower. It is deep enough underground that the damp chill seeps in from the other side of the walls and dark enough that Itachi navigates less by sight and more by touch.

He exits the mazelike corridors into a doorway that looks no different that the ones on either side of it, but instead of holding for crates containing records or spare weapons, he enters a small briefing room. Hoheto stands as Itachi comes through the door, greeting him with a grave nod. 

“Hey, Cap,” greets Yuugao, sprawled in her swivel chair. It creaks and wobbles dangerously as she leans back, by which she is unfazed. 

Tenzou turns. “Cap,” he says, distracted from the files he had been laying out on the table. Its surface has a massive, splintering crack down the center that is held together by copious amounts of tape and glue. “Right on time. We’re just waiting on the rookie.”

“Don’t sit on the red chair unless you’re okay with the seat falling out,” Yuugao advises. 

The tiny briefing room, which they have been relegated to following Itachi's exile from Anbu headquarters, doubles as storage for all the junk furniture that no one wanted to be responsible for throwing out. The red chair in question had supposedly belonged to Uzumaki Mito. Hoheto has chosen a large, very soft velveteen armchair and is slowly sinking into its depths with every movement. In contrast, Tenzou’s chair is a stool Itachi suspects he grew himself.

“Hm,” says Itachi, and chooses a wooden chair with alarmingly orange stripes. One of the legs is markedly shorter than the others. Nail heads protrude from junctures in crowded clusters, but it does not cause him overt discomfort. He examines the table as Tenzou finishes organizing his papers for the briefing.

The largest sheets of paper on the surface are maps, both of the entirety of Hi no Kuni and of smaller regions within. The location or direction in which Konohagakure lies is clearly marked on each. Outposts, roads, and other points of strategic importance reside inside concentric grids dotted with the locations of sightings of their quarry.

“Hey,” says Yuugao, after a few more minutes of pointedly not shifting in discomfort. “Does the rookie even know where to go?”

Itachi blinks. Tenzou glances at Hoheto, who says, “I did inform him as to the meeting place.”

Tenzou does not sigh. “Has Seitarou ever been down here before?”

“Probably not,” says Yuugao, a little too cheerful. “C’mon, Hoheto. Let’s go fetch him. We’re going to need your eyes.”

Hoheto scowl and mutters, "If he is Anbu, he should be able to find his own way." Nevertheless, he flails his way free of his chair’s clutches with little grace and trails Yuugao out the door.

The door shuts behind them. Itachi examines the contents of the table before Tenzou pats down his flak jacket and pulls out a scroll. "Here's your gear," he says, handing it to Itachi.

Itachi bites his thumb, swipes the blood that wells up down the middle of the seal, and his armor, mask, and katana appear in quiet puff of smoke. He lifts the sword and examines it critically, and runs a finger just at its edge to check for imperfections. After a moment Tenzou joins him, setting a holster full of kunai on the table and unearthing a whetstone.

"Hi! I'm so sorry!" Seitarou pants as he stumbles through the door some five minutes later. 

"He ended up underneath the Academy," says Yuugao dryly. "Gods know how."

"Hoheto-sempai just said, 'Third basement, north side, room one-oh-three,'" Seitarou protests. "The only basement I knew it  _ wasn't  _ in was HQ."

"We all received notice that future briefings involving the captain or Cap would take place in this tower," Hoheto points out, grumpily reclaiming his chair. 

"Ah," says Seitarou sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry."

"Let's begin," Tenzou says, and sets down his whetstone. He slides each of them a packet.

The first page is a profile with a small picture: Hiruko, age 46. Affiliation: nukenin. Village of Origin: Konohagakure. Pending charges: unlawful animal experimentation; human experimentation; murder; resisting arrest; assault of KMP officers; desertion; libel. 

"Hiruko was in the same graduating class as the Sanin before they all graduated after one year in the Academy," Tenzou says, tapping the top sheet. "He still graduated early even considering wartime policies. He has no clan to speak of or kekkei-genkai but has developed a kinjutsu that makes him a potentially grave threat in the future.”

Under the profile sheets are full-color pictures. Yuugao looks at the first and presses her lips together. Hoheto’s eyebrows knit together briefly before his face smooths into blankness. Itachi holds no judgment towards either of them.

“What a piece of work,” says Seitarou matter-of-factly, flipping through the pictures. 

“These are pictures taken from Hiruko’s illicit laboratory,” Tenzou continues grimly. “As you can see, the kinjutsu has a profound effect on its victims.”

He is referring to the people in the photographs -- or rather, what used to be people. The cadavers are mutilated, half-melted, all missing  _ something  _ whether it be hand or leg or ear or face. Each is entirely bloodless, like these corpses were just formed of clay and half-finished, which is perhaps more eerie than if the place had been drowning in blood. 

“Hiruko’s written findings and research are not available for examination at this time,” says Tenzou. “Nobody wants us to accidentally recreate the kinjutsu. We have, however, been advised that the kinjutsu allows Hiruko to acquire other abilities and kekkei-genkai by physically absorbing the target.”

“We have three kekkei-genkai, including two doujutsu, on Ro-Han,” Hoheto points out. “Is this wise?”

“It’s not like the other Anbu teams don’t have kekkei-genkai,” says Yuugao. “And this kinjutsu can replicate anything, not just bloodline limits.”

“While he has made no overt move against Konoha since he fled, he’s been judged to pose a significant future threat to the Village,” Tenzou concludes. “Our mission is to take him in or take him out before he grows too powerful. Cap?”

“Thank you,” says Itachi. “Hiruko has been sighted by operatives in the south-southwest Fire region, specifically in the towns of -- ”

The door opens.

Itachi stands, turns to face the intruder as he catches his team’s wide-eyed glances in his periphery. It’s Kakashi. He’s kitted out fully in Anbu gear, katana slung over his shoulder and mask hung at his belt. His scarred eyelid is closed but not covered, and his visible eye is intent, his movements as he strides in a hunter’s prowl.

“Ro-Han, gear up,” Kakashi orders, dropping a thin file on the table as Tenzou hurriedly collects the Hiruko documents. “The briefing starts now; we move out in five. Itachi, report to the Sandaime immediately.”

“Wait, what?” blurts Seitarou, sitting bolt upright. “Captain, are you taking over -- ?”

“The Hiruko Retrieval Mission is shelved. This,” says Kakashi, dropping a hand on his file, “takes precedence. Itachi,  _ report to the Sandaime.”  _

That is unusually vehement, and Itachi shoots Kakashi a look as he steps away from the table and allows the other man to take his place. He does not ask, not out loud, but Kakashi reads the question in his eyes anyways and lets out a short, sharp sigh. “S-ranked criminal Uchiha Shisui has been discovered fifty kilometers inside Hi no Kuni’s northern border,” he says, and Yuugao sucks in a hard gasp. “Itachi, go.”

Seitarou is watching Itachi with a sharp, careful gaze. Hoheto’s fists are clenched tightly, and his eyes are fixed on Kakashi’s file without actually seeing it. Tenzou stares at the table, a muscle in his jaw working. 

Itachi takes a breath. He picks up his katana but leaves the armor on the table.

He goes.

For all his talent, Itachi is not a match for his renegade cousin. Even though he has only a single transplanted doujutsu, Hatake Kakashi may be the only one in the Village besides the Hokage himself capable of standing against Uchiha Shisui of the Mangekyou. It is perhaps ironic that the only loyal wielder of strongest form of the Uchiha Clan kekkei-genkai is not even a member of the Clan, but Itachi knows the cost he must have paid to acquire it.

He should feel something. He must feel something. But Itachi is numb and clear-headed, sunken so deeply and so rapidly into mission calm that his mind has bypassed emotions entirely, and he bolts up the stairs. 

The doors to the Hokage’s office are closed, bracketed on either side by guards with more in the rafters, but few doors are truly closed to Itachi now, and Kakashi had said  _ report to the Sandaime immediately.  _ Nobody moves to stop him, and he pushes the door open with little fanfare but without much subtlety either.

The Hokage stands behind his desk, his pipe long gone, and beneath his wide sleeves, his vambraces catch the sunlight conspicuously as he shifts. There is no one else in the office, save Anbu operative Bird-16 and her ninken, a lean, wolflike creature mottled black and brindle codenamed 16-NA. She gives Itachi a sharp salute as he enters, but otherwise does not move. Her uniform is splattered with mud, and her ninken's mouth is open slightly, flanks heaving as he pants.

The Sandaime is watching Itachi as he enters. Itachi freezes just inside the door under the weight of his gaze.

"Uchiha Shisui crossed the Hi-Kaze border approximately two days ago," the Hokage informs him. "Bird-16 and 16-NA picked up his scent on a routine patrol. I have given the order to deploy Anbu Captain Wolf with Ro-Han as backup for a capture-kill-deter mission -- at his discretion." The Hokage glances out the window, towards the north, for just a moment before turning back. “Bird-16 and 16-NA, rest and stand by. Itachi, summon the captain of the Barrier Division and the captains of Anbu Teams Ra-han, Me-han, and Zu-han,” the Sandaime directs. His face is like stone. “Activate Protocol Lacewing. Discreetly.” _ _

"Hai," says Itachi crisply as the kunoichi-ninken team slump the slightest bit in unison, exhaustion weighing down their shoulders. Itachi turns on his heel and blurs out of the room.

He takes the rooftops out of the Tower, and the sunlight illuminates the villagers over whose heads Itachi leaps. The markets are bustling, busy with the midday lunch crowd, and children who Itachi is fairly sure should still be in class duck in and out of the outreaching alleys. It looks like peace, still, and for now, it is. Konoha is blissfully unaware of the threat that lurks in the forests beyond her walls. Itachi's job is to ensure it stays that way -- at least until the threat grows too difficult to contain.

A single shinobi taking on an entire Village is a daunting prospect, but not unheard of. A single shinobi taking on one of the five great Villages has never happened, but Uchiha Shisui is quite possibly the most powerful nuke-nin in Konoha history since Uchiha Madara, with a kill-list that exceeds even Orochimaru of the Sannin, and an as-yet unknown vendetta against the Village. 

Anbu Headquarters are near the Tower at the base of the mountains, and is strictly off-limits to anyone but the Hokage and active members of Anbu. Past the first gates, no one is bare-faced, but though Itachi has not donned his mask, he is not stopped. 

"Uchiha Itachi for the Administrator," Itachi tells the recruit manning the front desk.

"Oh, uh -- " the cat-masked recruit starts. His trainer cuts him off with a sharp jab and jerks his head down the hallway. Itachi nods his thanks and hurries deeper into Headquarters. 

Anbu does not have a commander, as the Hokage is its higher power. Instead, it has an administrator. 

_ Shihainin,  _ the Administrator, is a retired Anbu captain who is universally feared by everyone who insists that they're not afraid of her. Itachi himself admits a healthy wariness of the former Anbu Swan. It is she who manages the everyday workings of the Corps -- everything from personnel and recruitment rosters to team formations and debriefings, and even supply inventory and requisition requests. In the Corps, short of a direct countermand from the Hokage, her word is law.

"Shihainin-san," he greets, entering her office after a perfunctory knock. Even this is pushing the boundaries of politeness, and were Itachi not on a time-sensitive task, he would never have considered doing so.

"Uchiha-san," returns the Administrator, and sets her pen down deliberately. Her mask, deep crimson and marked with Konoha's leaf in white, regards him with infinite expectation.

"Protocol Lacewing," says Itachi, and the Administrator's eyes sharpen as she stands. "The Hokage summons the captains of Teams Ra, Me, and Zu."

"Understood," the Administrator says crisply, even as she strolls towards the door. “You may go, Uchiha-san.”

Itachi doesn’t overstay his welcome. He takes the opposite route of the Administrator -- up and out, instead of deeper into the warren. The invisible timer ticking in his head hits five minutes; Kakashi and Ro-Han will have departed, on their way north to intercept Shisui. They will be the first and only preemptive strike. Should they fail, Konohagakure will prepare to receive Shisui at its walls. 

Ro-Han should have been Itachi's team today; Itachi should have been the one to lead this mission. Kakashi is too valuable for Konoha to lose now, and it is Itachi's negligence to correct, Itachi's duty besides to bring justice to his fallen clan members.

But now, Itachi is inside the village walls running messages, because even three years later, he cannot kill Uchiha Shisui.

The gatekeeper at the Hyuuga compound gives him an odd look. Itachi belatedly recalls that he is still carrying his naked katana -- and that he had not thought to bring its sheath. He gives the Hyuuga a blank a look as he can manage and says, "Message for the Captain of the Barrier Division from the Hokage."

The Hyuuga gives him another wary glance but gestures him inside. "Would you like to borrow a sheath?" she offers, though it does not sound much like a query.

"Yes," Itachi admits without hesitation. He is fortunate that neither the Hokage nor the Administrator took offense at the bared blade. The Administrator might even have thought it an assassination attempt; she would have reacted no differently.

The Hyuuga signals at someone across the courtyard, and a teen around Itachi's age trots up with an empty scabbard, which he hands off to Itachi's escort without a fuss. She passes it to Itachi. 

"Thank you, Hyuuga-san," he says, sliding the blade away.

"Hisoka," she says, with a small smile.

"Hisoka-san," he agrees. 

The front door of the Main House opens as they approach, and a white-robed Branch member steps aside. "Hiashi-sama awaits you," he says.

Itachi hesitates, katana in hand. 

"If I may," says Hisoka. Itachi gives her the sword, and she pivots neatly to take up guard outside the door. Itachi follows his new guide into the house. 

The Hyuuga household holds expectations of precision and perfection. Here and there, however, are scraped corners or dented tatami mats or ink stains not quite completely erased -- scattered signs that children live within. Itachi's guide does not remark on them so neither does Itachi, even when he hears a muffled squeak behind him and the crash of a distant container upending.

Hiashi is seated behind his desk when Itachi's escort shows him into the study, but the man in question appears somewhat dishevelled despite his air of calm. Hiashi's left sleeve is dripping steadily onto the tatami mats. His hair, loose and dark, is flecked with orange paint. From upstairs, thundering footsteps rattle the ceiling. "Itachi-san," says Hiashi, as unruffled as a man of his appearance can be. 

"Captain," says Itachi in turn, and waits until the door shut behind him to continue. "Protocol Lacewing is in effect."

"Lacewing?" Hiashi demands sharply, 

"Aa," Itachi confirms.

"The Hokage," Hiashi says slowly, "sent  _ you  _ to tell me that Protocol Lacewing is in effect."

Itachi does not flinch. "Hai," he says. 

"Hm," says Hiashi, eyeing him for just a moment longer. He stands. His sleeve drips conspicuously onto the papers on his desk. "Very well. I will see you presently, Itachi-san."

Itachi turns to go.

"Itachi-san," Hiashi says suddenly before he can open the door. "Your fortitude is admirable."

What does one say, when one's father's childhood rival expresses condolences that Itachi must be the one to bring word of this? This, the initiation of countermeasures against he who murdered Itachi’s father and much of his Clan, he who had always been Itachi's best friend? Perhaps it is a breach of etiquette, but Itachi cannot find words with which to respond. Silently, he leaves.

He makes his way back to the front of the house unescorted, backtracking in both his path and his thoughts as he wrenches his focus forcibly back to the matter at hand. Hisoka's hushed voice becomes clearer the closer he goes. "...the ones who take care of you. If you choose to prank anyone, should it not be someone outside the Clan?"

Itachi opens the door. Hisoka is straight-faced and straight of posture, presumably alert for any disturbance. The bushes next to the house rustle violently and a tiny shape shoots out the far end and vanishes around the back corner of the house. "Uchiha-san," she greets, nonchalant, and offers him his katana. "Have you concluded your business here?"

Hisoka does not know of the looming danger that is Uchiha Shisui's return to Hi no Kuni. Perhaps she never will. Itachi does not resent her for her ignorance, but the same knowledge weighs heavily on his own mind. "I have. Thank you," he says, taking back his katana, and adds after a moment's hesitation, "Itachi."

"I will see you to the gates, Itachi-san," Hisoka replies, the edges of her eyes crinkling in a smile. 

"Are you close to Naruto-kun?" Itachi asks politely, desiring a distraction as he is unwilling to simply bolt down the path when the danger is still distant.

"He is a precocious one," Hisoka says, though there is a glimmer of amusement beneath her serenity. "It is good that he is with us. It will take an entire clan to raise that one."

Itachi slants a sideways glance at her. She is sincere. "Kakashi-sempai did say your Clan always saw clearly," Itachi says.

"Some of us," corrects Hisoka with a wry twist of her lips. "Some of us have unparalleled sight. Some of us may as well be blind."

The back door slams in the distance. "He is certainly energetic," Itachi comments.

"Keeps Hiashi-sama on his toes," agrees Hisoka. She stops just inside the gate. “Until next time, Itachi-san.”

Itachi inclines his head. He takes one step and then he is gone, caught up in the whirl of his shunshin. 

The Tower has retained its undercurrent of tension with its facade of normalcy. Itachi exchanges nods with the trio of Anbu captains that exit the Hokage’s office just as he enters, and the Sandaime looks up. “Itachi-kun, good timing,” the Sandaime says, striding around the side of his desk towards the conference room. “Come along.”

It is already full of people awaiting the Hokage’s arrival. Nara Shikaku, Jounin Commander. Yamanaka Inoichi, Captain of the Intelligence Division. Akimichi Chouza, Captain of the Home Guard. Inuzuka Tsume, Captain of the Search and Rescue Division. Aburame Shibi, Captain of the Reconnaissance Division. The Administrator.

Uchiha Mikoto, Captain of the Konoha Military Police.

Itachi takes his seat behind the Hokage and readies his notebook and pen with hands that know better than to shake. His mother is watching him without looking at him directly, and everyone else in the room is watching her in much the same way. 

The Hokage clears his throat, and their attention snaps to him instead. “Thank you all for coming on short notice,” he says. “Hakuchou, if you please.”

The Administrator stands silently. It is a well-known fact that she hates any mention of her former codename. She tolerates it from the Sandaime only, because he refuses to call her by her title and will not name her in front of others. 

She has a stack of papers in front of her -- Uchiha Shisui’s mission records in Anbu, declassified to this room only. Shikaku has records from the missions he ran in the Regular Forces. Inoichi has a psychoanalysis profile. Shibi has the preliminary report from the scouts dispatched immediately after Bird-16’s return. 

Mikoto has the crime scene reports from the KMP massacre. 

Two hours later, Itachi looks down at his notes and does not remember writing any of it.

The room empties slowly. No one speaks to Itachi or Mikoto -- not Hiashi, who slipped into the meeting twenty minutes late; not Tsume, who is well known for ignoring personal boundaries; not each other. As Mikoto leaves, the last of the captains, she pauses at the door, and Itachi thinks she will turn, thinks she will say something, anything, to him.

She doesn’t. Her slim shoulders, armored by her flak jacket, disappear into the hallway beyond.

“Itachi-kun,” says the Sandaime, and Itachi looks up. There are a hundred nuances in the Hokage’s old eyes -- compassion; grief, resolve; steel. “There is work to be done.”

Itachi gathers his things and follows the Hokage back to his office. 

The Village does not pause when a threat is detected. For all that several divisions are on high alert, everything that keeps the everyday workings of the Village running smoothly still must be completed. The Sandaime lights up a pipe at his desk, and lazy wisps curl towards the ceiling as he turns to his own paperwork. 

It is quiet. The scratch of pen against paper is loud in Itachi’s ears.

At dusk, Minari knocks on the door. “Sandaime-sama -- ” she starts.

The Sandaime holds up one hand, and she falls silent. “Please inform my family that I will not be joining them for dinner tonight,” he says. 

“Hai,” says Minari, subdued, and when she closes the door behind her on her way out, the Sandaime sighs, nearly imperceptible, and rubs at his eyes. 

The end of the workday is long past. The Sandaime does not offer to release Itachi. Itachi, were he given the chance, would not go anyways.

Minari knocks on the door again thirty minutes later. This time, she is carrying a large parcel that radiates stream, which she sets down on Kakashi's empty desk. "I picked up some bento boxes for you before I leave, Hokage-sama, Itachi-san," she says, as the Sandaime blinks owlishly at her. "Please remember to get some rest."

Itachi does not trust his voice so he nods his thanks. "Thank you, Minari-kun," the Sandaime says. "That is quite thoughtful of you."

"Goodnight, Hokage-sama," says Minari with a smile, and when her footsteps fade, Itachi realizes that everyone else save the Hokage's Anbu guard has already gone home.

The Sandaime levers himself upright and shuffles over to take a seat at Kakashi's place. "Come eat, Itachi-kun, before this grows cold."

It is plain, well-made food -- steamed rice and broiled salmon and picked vegetables, served with a side of soup, and Itachi can't shake the guilt that he is here, eating this, when he knows the members of the team he spent the last week getting to know are unlikely to survive the coming battle. How callous is it, that he is sheltered behind these walls as they are sent to their deaths?

"What do you know of the man called Orochimaru?" the Sandaime asks apropos of nothing, stacking a bite of fish atop his rice.

Itachi pauses. Much of what he knows is straight from the Academy curriculum -- one of the Sannin, Orochimaru was born and raised in war, and gained his title with his team fighting Hanzou of Amegakure. He is a combat genius, a formidable swordsman, and a contracted summoner of the snakes. He performed human experimentation, developed and practiced kinjutsu, and was subsequently branded a traitor and a nuke-nin and fled Konohagakure.

He was, first, the Sandaime’s student.

The Sandaime is not put off by Itachi’s silence. “He is my greatest failure,” he says, “though I believed he could have been my greatest legacy.” He pauses, pensive. "Orochimaru was a lonely child, but a brilliant one as well. Cunning, bright, and creative. Konoha was at war, and he was just the burgeoning flame that we needed to bring back hope, the one I thought would take my place as Hokage when he grew into himself."

Itachi does not dare interrupt. His food is cooling in the night air, but it seems almost sacrilegious to disrupt the Hokage's account, even to eat.

"I saw only the hope I fostered for him and none of the fear that festered within him," the Sandaime says, and those words alone age him a decade. "Fear of death, fear of loss. Those fears eclipsed everything else in his life until he became just a shell, until callous cruelty was a tool he turned against fellow villagers and shinobi alike in his quest to stave off those fears.

“His first victory in battle. His favorite food. His favorite books. His pet peeves. I could tell you all of those -- he was my precious student. However, all those other lives he took -- those were also mine to foster, mine to protect. 

“How can I send my shinobi into battle as I remain in Konoha, knowing that they may not return? I could tell you much of Kakashi-kun,” the Hokage muses aloud. “He was a very serious child who grew up very quickly. I could tell you of Yuugao-kun -- a fierce young spirit who refused to leave her sister behind. I watched them grow up, watched them struggle and learn, and now, I may have sent them to die. 

“Never take lightly the sacrifices made; never let them become mere numbers and statistics,” says the Sandaime, and the words are more potent than a command. “Live every life in Konoha -- rejoice in their triumphs; grieve with their losses. Hold precious every soul inside these walls. This is what it means to be Hokage.”

“I understand,” says Itachi, and the look the Hokage gives him is patient and ponderous. 

“I will not send you to kill Shisui," says the Hokage with grave finality, "unless there is no other choice. It is a cruel task, to kill someone you loved."

Itachi cannot find the words with which to respond. The Hokage does not seem to expect a response, because he nods. “Now, Itachi-kun,” he says, brisk once again. “I have prepared Teams Ra, Me, and Zu for deployment. Tell me why.”

Itachi takes a breath, accepts the files the Hokage passes to him. He takes a bite of his now-cold rice and immerses himself in the personnel profiles. 

The sun comes up little by little after the endless night. Orange rays of sunlight spill over the horizon, filtering through the trees and illuminating the crimson-tiled rooftops. Itachi rubs the grit from his eyes and forces his vision to focus on the characters that swim across the paper.

There is a knock at the door. The Hokage clears his throat and rasps, “Come in.”

Minari makes a distressed noise as she pokes her head in the door. “Hokage-sama!” she cries. “Did you sleep at all?”

The Hokage sighs, straightens in his chair. “I’m afraid not, my dear,” he says, smiling regretfully at her. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes, I -- ” Minari cuts herself off with an exasperated sigh. “Hokage-sama, you can’t continue if you don’t rest. No one can go on like this.”

“Quite so,” the Hokage agrees. “Itachi-kun, do go home. You will need your rest.”

Itachi glances up, surprised, and meets Minari’s increasingly frustrated eyes. She blows out a short breath. “Hokage- _ sama!”  _ she hisses, actually stomping her foot.

“Minari-kun, throwing tantrums haven’t worked for you since you were six,” the Hokage says serenely. “I highly doubt they will help you win your case now.”

Minari makes a noise like a boiling teakettle. Then she takes a deep breath and says, very precisely, “Hokage-sama, if you do not  _ get some rest,  _ I will inform your daughters, your attending medic-nins, and  _ Senju Tsunade-sama herself  _ that your are neglecting your health.”

The Hokage strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Bold. A blatant manipulation.”

“Still effective,” Minari counters, crossing her arms over her chest. 

The Hokage, still with the pleasant smile on his face, turns to Itachi. “Itachi-kun,” he says. “You may go.”

It’s a dismissal. It’s also probably a way to get Itachi out of the room so he does not witness whatever happens next, the recounting of which his team would likely find quite amusing in the future. That being said, Itachi does not think the entertainment value is worth the risk of staying and makes an expedient exit. 

Itachi sleeps for four hours, dreamlessly. When he wakes, his throat is dry, his head stuffed with cotton, and he feels, if possible, more tired than when he had first gone to bed. The day will not wait for him. He takes a shower, kits himself back up in his uniform, and stares blankly into his refrigerator.

There’s a light thump at his windowsill. Itachi looks up to see Yuri, who freezes when she notices him watching her. There’s another cream-colored card in her mouth, and slowly, she opens her mouth to let it drop. 

Itachi turns back around. He had been planning to return directly to the Tower after a quick breakfast, but now he has another mouth to feed. He takes a packaged pork bone out from the bottom shelf, chooses some carrots, leeks, and daikon radish. A moment later, Yuri winds around his ankles in silent apology. 

“Does soup sound amenable?” he asks her. She butts her head against his leg. That is no protest, so Itachi starts the pot boiling. 

Itachi is likely not expected at the Tower, else a messenger would have been sent. Nevertheless, as soon as he has eaten, and Yuri is gnawing on a meaty bone, he leaves the kitchenware in the sink to soak and takes the familiar path back to the Tower. Inexplicably, Yuri drops in at his heels before he has gone beyond his own block, her tail high as she pads alongside him with casual disinterest. 

He glances down at her, which she ignores. “Have you finished eating already?” This, too, she ignores. “This is highly irregular,” he informs her. 

Minari is still at her post outside the Hokage’s office doors, appearing faintly peeved. “Itachi-san,” she says when she spots him, and her eyes narrow. “I last saw you here five hours ago.”

“I am well rested, Minari-san,” Itachi assures her, and it is only mostly a lie.

Fortunately, Yuri’s presence proves an asset as it distracts Minari from prying into Itachi’s continued well-being. “I didn’t know you had a nin-neko, Itachi-san,” she says, tracking Yuri with interest. 

“I do not,” says Itachi was dignity. “Minari-san, this is Yuri. Yuri does not like to partake in combat, espionage, or any other shinobi art.” 

“Ah,” says Minari. She crouches and offers her finger for Yuri to sniff. 

Itachi uses the opportunity to open the office door. The Hokage is there, which explains Minari’s ire. Whether he never left or whether he had returned before Itachi is difficult to parse. “Itachi-kun,” he greets, as though it were the beginning of a new day and not eleven in the morning after both of them remained awake all night. “And -- I believe this must be Yuri-kun.” 

Itachi turns to watch the cat saunter into the office. “Yes,” he says, resigned. “Yuri, perhaps you should return home.”

Yuri is a cat, so she strolls straight up the center of the office and leaps up onto the Hokage’s desk, landing straight on a nest of papers. 

“Yuri,” Itachi admonishes, a frisson of panic shooting down his spine. “Yuri, no.”

“Cats do tend to have minds of their own,” the Sandaime says as Yuri picks her way forward so their noses are nearly touching. “Hello, Yuri-kun.”

Yuri sniffs the Sandaime’s face carefully top to bottom. Then, deliberately, she starts grooming his beard.

_ “Yuri,”  _ Itachi says, strangled.

“That...that is very kind of you, Yuri-kun,” the Sandaime says, faintly bemused. “However, I assure you that this is not necessary.” Rather than stop, Yuri reaches up to plant a delicate paw on the Sandaime’s cheek, the better to balance on to reach his beard with. 

“Hokage-sama,” says Minari from the doorway, crossing her arms triumphantly. “She can tell you haven’t slept. Or washed. Perhaps if you  _ went home  _ you would not be in this position.” 

Itachi wonders if this is a fever dream, if perhaps he had not woken up after all. At least now, he knows that the Hokage had won the argument with Minari earlier that morning. 

“Minari-kun,” the Sandaime says, and though his tone stays light and even, his presence presses down on the room. Itachi is suddenly cognizant of the breath rasping through his lungs, the thrum of his heartbeat in veins so close to the surface of his skin. Minari falters, her arms dropping to her side as she goes still. “Minari-kun,” the Sandaime repeats, “that will be quite enough from you. You as well, Yuri-kun.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” says Minari, her voice small, and retreats back outside the doors.

Yuri makes a  _ mrrp  _ of disapproval but desists, leaping down to the floor. 

“I apologize, Hokage-sama,” says Itachi. “Perhaps I should bring her home.” Yuri flashes her fangs at him for the suggestion, pinning back her ears soundlessly.

“No need,” says the Sandaime tiredly. “She may stay, so long as she does not interfere.”

Yuri, triumphant, occupies Kakashi’s vacant seat and curls up for a nap. Itachi leaves her be to orient himself with the work he left half-finished. 

Minari knocks on the door an hour later, her businesslike demeanor returned. “Hokage-sama,” she says. “Hyuuga Migaku of the Reconaissance Division with a report on Lacewing One.”

Itachi disguises his interest by scribbling a note in the margin of the page. The Sandaime sets down his pen and folds his hands together. “See him in, please,” the Hokage says.

Hyuuga Migaku enters the office wearing a black stealth suit scraped at the elbows and knees. “Hokage-sama,” he says, dropping to one knee.

“Migaku,” says the Sandaime. “Stand up, please. Report. The summary version.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” says Migaku, rising gingerly. “My team was stationed in Noheji and redirected to run a scouting mission west towards Rokunohe thirty-eight hours ago. I sighted the S-ranked nuke-nin Uchiha Shisui fifteen kilometres southeast of Rokunohe; my team continued to monitor him for sixteen hours before we were relieved by Tatsuya Josei and his team.”

The Hokage hummed gravely. “Any abnormal movement from Uchiha Shisui?”

“No,” says Migaku, the skin between his eyebrows pinching as he frowns. “He entered the town and paid for a room at the inn. He then exited the room, purchased food and consumed it, and then made his way into the surrounding forest. He spent several hours walking through the forest with no apparent goal before returning to the inn. He set no traps before retiring to sleep.”

Shisui will not wander without purpose, not anymore. “He knows we are hunting him,” says Itachi.

Migaku’s frown deepens as he switches his attention to Itachi. “He could not have sensed us. My team did not approach; we should have been well outside his sensing range.”

The Hokage does not interject, so Itachi says, “Shisui has a summoning contract with the crows. He has only ever used them as a diversion in battle, but there is no reason he cannot use them for reconaissance as well.”

Migaku stands still as he absorbs that, tracking back through his memories, and Itachi can see the moment when he realizes the truth.

“Itachi is right,” the Sandaime pronounces at last, and relief and dread rise in Itachi simultaneously. “Uchiha Shisui will be expecting our ambush.” He looks up, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Migaku, you may go. You and your team must get some rest.”

“Hokage-sama,” Migaku acknowledges with a nod. He turns on his heel and departs.

“You do not plan to make any alterations to the plan of action, Hokage-sama,” Itachi notes, once the doors close behind him. 

“I do not,” confirms the Sandaime heavily. He rests his chin on steepled fingers. “Kakashi and Ro-Han will be informed that Shisui is aware of their imminent arrival, of course, but Shisui cannot be allowed to roam free in Hi no Kuni.”

Yuri pads across Kakashi’s desk and then Itachi’s, nudges against his shoulder and slinks down into his lap. Her warmth is a comforting weight, and Itachi tangles a hand in her fur as she purrs. “I understand, Hokage-sama,” he says, and his voice is steady.

Once, Uchiha Shisui had been everything Itachi had striven to become -- a dutiful son, a skillful shinobi. He had loved Konoha and his Clan and his family, had walked the streets of the Village with open contentment and a friendly greeting for shopkeepers and fellow shinobi alike.

Once, Shisui had been a mentor, a friend, and a brother to Itachi, had reached out to him when no one else did. He took Itachi out to eat, out to train, sat with him at home just to read, listened to Itachi's hopes for peace and shared his own.

Once, Shisui saw Itachi off on a mission with a crooked smile and told him,  _ Don't worry about Sasuke-chan. I'll look out for him while you're gone.  _ Itachi had come home to find the KMP station a smoking pyre, most of his Clan dead, and a councilman and war hero murdered besides.

Once, Itachi trusted Shisui with everything he had. Now, he watches the Hokage order his hunt and doesn't know what he hopes will happen. 

When the evening rays stream through the windows, Anbu Owl of Ra-Han sends back a messenger hawk with a heavily coded report that simply reads,  _ Teams Ra, Me, and Zu in position.  _

Twenty-odd minutes past midnight, Inuzuka Kegawa and Yaseimaru of the Reconnaissance Division arrive with their report, mud-splattered and trembling from exhaustion: Hatake Kakashi has met Uchiha Shisui in battle.

At two in the afternoon, the doors to the Hokage’s office open. 

It is Yuugao, and she is alone. She drops to one knee, more a fall than a controlled descent. 

There is blood matted in her hair, dark, damp patches staining even her Anbu blacks, and her pale armor is scorched and cracked. “Hokage-sama,” she croaks, raw and painful.

The Hokage stands abruptly. “Send for a medic,” he orders Minari, who is hovering worriedly in the doorway. The tokujo nods and vanishes, and the doors swing shut behind her. “Speak,” he urges Yuugao.

“Uchiha Shisui lives,” says Yuugao, and Itachi doesn’t realize he’s squeezing Yuri until she bats his fingers with barely-unsheathed claws. He lets go of her but she stays put instead of fleeing, a soft warmth against his arm. “He was injured in the battle and fled northeast, towards the border. Teams Ra, Me, and Zu are following at a distance.”

“Very well,” says the Hokage, but the lines around his eyes are pinched.

“The battle resulted in a large amount of environmental damage,” Yuugao continues. “Casualties may include civilians from the nearby town of Rokunohe.”

“Search and Rescue teams are being deployed,” the Hokage assures her. “The status on Ro-Han, Cat-15.”

Yuugao blinks once, slowly, as though dazed. Itachi forces himself to breathe, to pretend his pulse is steady and regular instead of fluttering like birds’ wings. “Alive, Hokage-sama,” says Yuugao after what feels like an endless pause. “All members of Ro-Han live.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was supposed to be only fluff but it has grown a plot I'm sorry. Next chapter is lighter and will actually have fluff, promise. If you're here because you're waiting on the sequel to Rise, that one's in progress too :)


	4. The Diligent Songbird, Rebuilding Its Nest After A Midnight Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was told they would convey my professional respect,” Itachi says. Or, he remembers with a sinking feeling, unrequited love.

Itachi had not been among the SAR teams sent out after the battered, straggling members of Ro-Han, and he had not personally delivered them back to the Village nor joined the Home Guard escort once they were close. Itachi had been in the Hokage's office as each new report came in: all members of Ro-Han located; Ro-Han escorted through Village gates; all members of Ro-Han arrived at the hospital alive; Anbu Wolf, Bird-6, and Cat-11 admitted for emergency surgery; Dog-9 admitted for acute care. As his team fights for survival in the medical wards, Itachi works his way through a stack of propositions and does not think about them. 

“Itachi-kun,” says the Sandaime in the middle of the afternoon. Itachi looks up from where his head is bent over the minutes from the last Merchants’ Council meeting. “You are dismissed.”

It is seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon. Itachi is supposed to work at the Tower for approximately two more hours. “Hokage-sama?” he asks. 

The Hokage has been puffing away on the same pipe for the entire afternoon. “Take the evening off, Itachi-kun,” he says. “I will see you tomorrow morning.”

It is not a suggestion, so Itachi sets his desk to rights and departs. Yuri deigns to follow him only out of the tower before disappearing into the golden sunlight. 

It’s a little strange, walking the street in the middle of the day with no briefing to hurry to, no scheduled training. Now is the lull before the evening crowd, when genin teams are finishing up D-ranks or team training, the time when the Academy students have all trailed home for snacks and to do homework.

Itachi should train. His mission may have been shelved, but he is still responsible for keeping himself fighting-fit. But he had not planned a session for today, and when one has comrades in the hospital, it is Itachi’s understanding that one should visit them. 

Etiquette lessons remind him that he should bring some sort of gift -- flowers and fruits are generally accepted, along with stuffed plush animal toys. He considers the latter for a moment, but concludes that the obvious choice of gifting toy animals matching his teammates’ masks would come too close to exposing their identities and, considering that they would likely not be able to eat after major surgery, instead stops at the nearest flower shop.

There is a small girl with pale blonde hair tied up in a ponytail sitting cross-legged on the front counter, a workbook and pencil lying abandoned beside her as she weaves a garland of violets with deft fingers. Itachi glances to the racks on either side, loathe to disturb her, but his hanakotoba lessons are half a decade behind him and though he can recall that the scarlet blooms before him are in fact hallucogenic he cannot remember either its name or what it represents. 

As he hesitates, there’s a soft scuffle as the girl hops off the counter and waltzes up to him. “Hi!” she says brightly. “Are you Sasuke-kun’s brother?” 

Itachi blinks down at her. Confident, bubbly, and the same pale blue eyes and blonde hair as her father. She waits, beaming, until a voice calls from the back, “Ino-chan, are you helping the customer or harassing them?”

“Helping!” Ino replies instantly, without taking her eyes or smile off Itachi. There’s a judgmental silence from the back, and then Ino pouts. “How can I help you today, customer-san?” she relents. 

“I am looking for flowers -- ” Itachi begins.

Ino performs a prodigious eyeroll along the lines of,  _ you’re in the right place for that, genius,  _ and the voice from the back immediately chastises, “Ino!” as though they possess a radar for insolence.

“Flowers to gift to -- ” Itachi hesitates for a split second to amend  _ teammates  _ to “ -- friends who are recuperating in the hospital.” 

“Okay!” Ino chirps. “I can help you with that. Is this for, like, a lover…?” She bats her eyelashes at him in a manner that is probably intended to be winsome.

“Not for a lover,” says Itachi blankly. “People whom I respect.”

Ino narrows her eyes at him. “So you don’t respect your lovers?” 

There is noticeable aggravation emanating from the back room. Ino huffs before Itachi has to respond and says, flippantly, “Don’t answer that. I’ll get your  _ flowers,”  _ and saunters off, leaving Itachi to wonder if he has just been ambushed by an eight-year-old girl. He waits where he is by the doorway for nearly half a minute before Ino’s impatient voice drifts over the racks. “Customer-san, don’t you want to see what I’m picking?”

In Itachi’s somewhat limited experience, the most efficient way to deal with a child wielding a voice like that is the path of least resistance, so he goes to see what she is picking. 

There is a bundle of sunny daffodils in her hand, and she is combing through a bucket of delicate blue-purple blooms. “What kind of bouquet do you want?” she asks. “Big or small? Just the one? But you said friends, so two? Three? Lots of colors?”

“Small,” Itachi managed. “I will need five.”

Ino pauses long enough to give him a grave look of understanding with too-old eyes before she picks out several stems and sweeps them all into a basket. “These are yanagi mint,” she explains. “For cleanliness, purification, and sacrifice. Daffodils are for respect. Or unrequited love,” she adds thoughtfully, but whisks around the next aisle before Itachi can think to protest. 

She peeks up at him when he rounds the corner. “How do you feel about bamboo? For loyalty and strength. And chamomile, for patience and energy in adversity. And because it smells good. Ooh -- ” and she darts off again.

“Both sound acceptable,” Itachi tells the space where she had been, and goes to follow. 

“Let’s do peonies, too,” Ino suggests. The basket in the crook of her arm is already full to bursting of colorful blooms, but she lingers next to a display of pale red buds. “Only the little baby ones so they don’t overwhelm the daffodils.” She hesitates, glancing up at him. “I don’t want to have four kinds of plants in there,” she says. “It’s bad luck.”

“I will defer to your judgment,” says Itachi, who is honestly quite at a loss as to the whole process.

It seems to be the right answer, because Ino lights up, the grin reappearing on her face as she sweeps up an armful of the peonies. “Great!” she says. “Wait right here, customer-san, I’ll go wrap these up for you.”

Itachi opens his mouth to ask whether she will be wrapping them all up together or separating them into separate bundles, but she is gone. He turns instead to make a closer examination of the other flowers offered.

The common ones he remembers by name -- roses and camellias and irses; others he recognizes only by use -- poison, remedy for a sore throat, scavenger repellent. There are massive flowers a bright yellow, delicate pink wisps of buds, soft curls of fronds glowing with life. He turns a corner, chasing a familiar scent, and finds himself in a tiny alcove piled with lavender -- young sprouts just peeking out from the skill, small bushes that have already gained volume, clipped sprigs perching in glass vases. Itachi inhales and it smells like home.

Some distance away, a tinny bell dings. "Customer-san," Ino singsongs. 

"Ino-chan, that bell is for customers to call you, not the other way around," reproves the stockroom voice, which Ino cheerfully brushes off.

There is a paper bag dwarfing Ino herself waiting for Itachi on the counter, in which are five neatly bundled bouquets artfully arranged within. Ino beams up at him. "I hope this is what you wanted," she says in a tone that implies danger if it were not.

"Yes. Thank you," he says. Itachi stacks ryou on the counter and says, “I do not need change, thank you.” He throws a henge over the giant bag to Ino’s visible disappointment and exits left to the main road. 

The hospital has a separate wing for treatment and rehabilitation of active Anbu operatives. Itachi is intimately familiar with it. The halls are constructed so the are choke points at strategic locations, so there are posts at which guards can conceal themselves, so adjoining rooms can house members of the same team. 

There’s a quiet hum of conversation drifting out of the nearest doorway. Itachi pauses at the entrance, because the room is very nearly crowded. 

There are monitor leads and tubing and an oxygen mask hooked up to an unmoving Seitarou, but there is also a massive plush squirrel resting in the divot between his legs, a basket of wrapped sandwiches on one side of the bed, and a scattering of paperback novels and a couple of get-well-soon cards on the sideboard. Seitarou himself is unconscious but there are two women trading conversation over his body. On the other side of the room is Hoheto’s bed, inclined so he is sitting up to talk to his own visitor -- Hyuuga Hisoka. She is the first to see him.

“Itachi-san,” she says, eyebrows rising slightly. “This is unexpected.”

Hoheto turns his head, wincing minutely as he does so. “Cap,” he greets, and his forehead furrows slightly. His eyes are slightly unfocused but they lock on Itachi well enough. “You are acquainted with Hisoka?” 

“Aa, in passing,” Itachi confirms. 

Hisoka almost-smiles. “We met yesterday,” she explains, and graciously does not mention that Itachi had carried a bared blade nearly into her Clan Leader’s home. 

“She is my half-sister’s uncle’s son-in-law’s cousin,” Hoheto explains. “We are...close.” 

"We were neighbors growing up," adds Hisoka. "We always bring soup when the other is injured." She nods at the sideboard and the pair of thermoses it bears.

"It is good that you have the company," Itachi tells Hoheto. An injured shinobi is a paranoid shinobi, and having one there that is trusted helps relieve the anxiety of being confined to a strange place while weakened. 

"I am fortunate," Hoheto agrees, and trades a knowing glance with Hisoka. 

The conversation stalls. In the absence of words to say Itachi reaches into his bag and extracts one of the flower bouquets. "I acquired this before I arrived," he explains, offering it to Hoheto. "I have been informed that it conveys respect for your bravery and sacrifice as well as strength and energy for healing." 

Hoheto eyes the bundle. "You purchased flowers?"

"Yes," says Itachi.

"For me," says Hoheto.

"Yes," repeats Itachi, patient.

Hoheto blinks, and when he does not move to take the flowers Hisoka does it for him. "He is to limit his movements," she explains. "The gesture is appreciated."

"Yes," Hoheto agrees, slightly strangled. "My thanks, Cap."

Itachi nods to each in turn and takes his leave. The two guarding Seitarou's bed watch like hawks as Itachi crosses the room. Itachi decides to expedite the token of goodwill and proffers the flowers immediately. 

"You're not Seitarou's captain," the older one says, her tone neutral. The younger one steps towards and accepts the flowers with a murmur of thanks. 

"I am not currently serving in the field," Itachi not-quite-disagrees. "This team's commanding officer is also undergoing treatment."

The older one nods. "This was a rough one," she notes. "Seitarou was in the hospital less than a month ago and now he's back."

"His continued survival is a testament to his skill," Itachi says, entirely sincere. 

The older one is probably in her early twenties, and when she smiles the scar cutting diagonally from temple to chin stretches and distends. "I'm Poemu, the oldest sister," she says, and nods to her companion. "Hoshiyo, my younger sister." 

"Uchiha Itachi," Itachi introduces reflexively. 

Hoshiyo eyes Itachi with mixed curiosity and assessment. "How do you know Seitarou, then?"

"We visited the same establishment with mutual acquaintances the other night," says Itachi, leaving out the part where said acquaintances had introduced Seitarou to consumable alcohol, drinking games, and consequently hangovers. 

The Imai sisters exchange a knowing look. "Must've been a helluva night," says Poemu. "Otouto came back next afternoon looking like someone dragged him backwards through a forest."

"He's never stayed out overnight before," Hoshiyo chimes in. 

"He's the good kid," Poemu agrees. “Our parents spoil him.”

“The baby,” says Hoshiyo, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Seitarou surfaces long enough to mutter something incoherent in protest before sinking back into unconsciousness. Itachi glances down at his still form. "Is he well?"

"Aa," answers Hoshiyo without taking her eyes off him. "Surgery went fine. The iryou-nin said to let him rest -- they gave him a lot of medication."

Poemu reaches down to pet his hair fondly. “Our parents would be in here with an entire flower market if they weren’t on a mission,” she says. “They’re a bait-and-switch duo, so when one of them goes they both go.”

“I hope it was not inappropriate of me to bring flowers,” says Itachi. It must look strange to them -- a fourteen-year-old recluse visiting their brother and his teammate in the hospital after a top-secret mission. But they would have been cleared by security before being allowed entrance, must be trusted enough with the identity and kin of at least one Anbu operative besides Seitarou.

“Not at all,” says Poemu. 

“The opposite,” Hoshiyo rushes to assure him. “Thank you for visiting.” She pats the flowers, now lying in the arms of the plush squirrel. “He’ll appreciate these.” 

Itachi, having delivered the flowers and unprepared to perpetuate conversation, nods at each sister in turn and retreats. 

There is another hallway, another set of double doors, another layer of security between the rooms housing the rotational Anbu and those for the career Anbu. Itachi, after crossing that divide, hears a lone voice, low and soothing with the cadence of a recitation, emanating from the occupied room.

_ “‘Even as a cat, if he lives with a teacher, seems to take after his disposition. If I do not take care of myself, I shall probably become a dyspeptic myself. Talking of a teacher -- ‘” _

There's a girl with violet hair just a shade darker than Yuugao's sitting in the room she shares with Tenzou. Her head comes up as soon as Itachi crosses the threshold though he makes no sound, and as she rises to her feet her eyes widen in recognition. "Captain," she says.

Itachi has never seen this girl in his life, but it is not difficult to infer her identity. "Hayate-san, Yuugao. Gazeru-san," he greets, and if possible her eyes grow wider. 

Hayate pauses and lowers his book, glancing first at Gazeru and then Itachi. He stifles a cough, says, “Itachi-san. Hi.”

“Hey, Cap,” Yuugao croaks from her bed. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” She looks much smaller swathed in a hospital gown instead of her armor. A patch of her hair has been shaved and is now wrapped in bandages, and the telltale white peeks out around her torso as well, but she has only an IV drip in her arm. “This is my sister. Gazeru-chan, this is Cap.”

“Uchiha Itachi,” Itachi corrects, but Gazeru is slated to become a career Anbu. He is not overtly concerned about the slip of protocol. “Was that an excerpt from author Natsume Soseki?” 

_ “I Am A Cat,”  _ confirms Hayate, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smile as Yuugao rolls her eyes expressively.

“He reads that drivel every time I land in the hospital,” Yuugao complains as Gazeru stifles a giggle.

"I don't know," rasps Tenzou on the other side of the room without opening his eyes. "I like it." Unlike Yuugao, he has an array of monitors and machines surrounding his bed. 

“I read it every time you end up in the hospital, too,” Hayate says. “I think it’s fitting.” Both Tenzou and Yuugao have ‘Cat’ callsigns; paired with the fleeting smirk on Hayate’s face, it is likely a form of inside joke as well as a potential breach of security. Itachi resolves to ignore the latter. 

“I brought you something. It is not much,” Itachi says, reaching into his bag, “but it is in the spirit of wishes for a fast recovery.” 

“Flowers,” says Yuugao, pleased, and reaches out. Itachi passes her one of the bouquets and she immediately plants her face into it. “They’re lovely, Cap, thank you.”

“Not now, Cap,” says Tenzou. He does not sound entirely cognizant. “I’m still in the hospital. No baking.”

“You fool,” Yuugao says, muffled. “You’re unconscious. Go back to sleep.”

“Merf,” retorts Tenzou. 

Hayate takes the other bouquet from Itachi with a wry smile and leaves it on Tenzou’s sideboard alongside another book and a stack of playing cards. “He had a rough operation,” he explains. “Medics say he’ll be lucid every so often but mostly not for another couple of days.”

“Are you sweet on him?” Gazeru interjects unexpectedly.

Itachi blinks, nonplussed. Yuugao reaches out blindly to aim a swat at Gazeru and misses entirely. “Am I…’sweet on him?’” Itachi repeats.

“You brought him flowers,” Gazeru says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Hayate-nii got Tenzou-san a book because they're friends and Yuugao flowers because he likes her. You like him or something? Like, want to  _ court  _ him?”

Hayate, slightly pink, rubs at his eyes and doesn't say anything.

“I brought your sister flowers,” Itachi points out. “I do not wish to court her.”

“Could be for appearances,” says Gazeru. “The arrangement has daffodils.”

What was it Ino had said? “I was told they would convey my professional respect,” Itachi says. Or, he remembers with a sinking feeling, unrequited love. 

Gazeru shoots him a judgmental look. “Told by who?”

“Cut it out, imouto,” says Yuugao with an edge of fondness, setting aside the flowers. “It was a very nice gesture, and it makes me just as happy as you coming to visit with Momo-san.” 

Gazeru’s ears flush a dark red and she hurls the extra blanket over a tattered plush cat lying on the bed at Yuugao’s side. “Onee-chan,” she hisses.

“I will leave you to rest,” Itachi tells Yuugao.

She nods, smiles, and deliberately doesn’t wince. “Thanks for dropping by, Cap.” 

Hayate lifts a hand in a wave and Gazeru’s eyes follow Itachi silently as he slips out. 

There is one more hallway to cross before Itachi reaches his last stop. The previous two had been quiet, but this one is all but soundless, and beneath the stark overhead lighting, it feels abnormally still. Kakashi’s is a private room, but though there is a small futon to the side for visitors, it is empty save for Kakashi himself, who lies prone on his bed with his eyes closed and his blanket pulled up over his nose. There’s a line snaking blood into the crook of his arm, another with a clear solution, and a heart monitor on the far side. 

And unlike the previous, there are no visitors in Kakashi’s room. There are no cards, no flowers, no books, no stuffed plush toys. There is a complete absence of personal touches because no one has been here besides the medical staff and now Itachi. Itachi checks the clipboard at the foot of the bed, flipping through the pages until he sees that the emergency contact line is blank. Kakashi has no one to visit him.

No -- Kakashi thinks he has no one to visit him. 

Itachi pauses but Kakashi is not awake and it does not take him long to consider. He sets the flowers on the sideboard and leaves. 

The evening crowd is in full swing when he emerges from the hospital. Between the late-nighters and the shinobi who rise before the sun, Konoha is most quiet at the witching hours, and those are nearly eight hours out. Last night, Itachi’s team almost died diverting one of Konoha's greatest threats, but for everyone else in Konoha, it is just another sunset in peacetime. 

He weaves through the crowds, as intangible as a shadow and untouched by the noises and the smells and the distractions, and ends up in front of the bar Kakashi had taken him to with the rest of Ro-Han. Itachi hesitates at the doorway, does a quick scan of the occupants. This is only the second time he has been here and the room is full of both familiar and unfamiliar faces. He weighs his options, chooses his target, and advances. 

"Hey, kid," Gemma drawls as he approaches. There's a platter of fried seafood in front of him that he picks at with his chopsticks and a glass of something amber that Itachi suspects is chilled tea, not beer. "Off duty?"

"Hai," says Itachi, and pauses. Gemma raises an eyebrow. "I am looking for...close acquaintances," says Itachi. "Of Kakashi-sempai," he clarifies when Gemma's other eyebrow rises. 

"Oh," says Gemma. His eyebrows stay where they are. He's claimed a corner table, a coveted vantage point, from which he glances around the room. "Try his Academy classmates," he suggests, nodding towards the doorway where Sarutobi Asuma and Yuuhei Kurenai are just walking in. 

It's a logical answer, and one that suggests that Gemma himself does not consider himself close to Kakashi. "Thank you," says Itachi, and switches targets. 

They’re both in the standard uniform, flak jackets well-worn and dusty from the training grounds. Kurenai’s hair tumbles down her shoulders in messy waves, and strands fall into her face when she glances sideways at Asuma. They see him coming, both of them, and they don’t attempt to avoid him, so Itachi takes that as an invitation. “Sarutobi-san, Yuuhei-san,” he says. “I apologize for disturbing your evening.”

They’re standing around their table, not even seated yet. Asuma gives him a look that is wary but not unfriendly, and Kurenai smiles at him. “Uchiha-kun, isn’t it?” she asks. “Were you looking for us?”

Itachi inclines his head. “I understand that you were Academy classmates with Hatake Kakashi,” he says. “Unless I am mistaken,” he adds when the pair trade looks, though he is quite sure he is not. 

“Yeah, Hatake’s our age,” says Asuma around his cigarette. “He was only in our Academy class for one year, though.”

“Did you want to know something specifically about that time?” Kurenai asks curiously. 

“Not the time,” says Itachi. “People.” Asuma’s expression is tilting increasingly towards skeptical, so Itachi says, “I am attempting to locate a friend of Kakashi-sempai.”

Asuma and Kurenai glance at each other again. “Hatake never really made an effort to get to know anyone in the class,” says Asuma. “The most we saw of him was when Obito and Rin joined his team, but -- ” he shrugs, a helpless gesture. “ -- after, he kept his distance even more.”

“You are not close with him?” Itachi prods, because there’s old familiarity and distance both in the way he says it.

Asuma shrugs. “We lost touch,” Kurenai explains, and there’s a hint of wistfulness tinting her voice now. “We’ve been in the Regular Forces all these years.” And Kakashi had not.

Itachi pauses to absorb the information. There are bonds here that could be rebuilt, but Kakashi would not welcome the attempt when he is injured, weakened, and in the hospital. “There is no one that he engages with regularly?” he says.

“Well,” Kurenai muses aloud thoughtfully. “There’s always -- ” and then she catches Asuma’s eye and cuts herself off. “There’s always his -- his current teammates. He always puts them first. During missions, but also downtime.”

The current teammates are all in the hospital. Itachi is not interested in them for his purposes. “You were about to name another,” he notes.

Kurenai winces delicately, barely more than a blink. “Ah,” she says. “There may be...someone else.”

“Ah, no, Kurenai,” Asuma interjects. “Don’t inflict him on the kid.”

“I would like to know,” Itachi insists. “Whoever they are.” As long as they yet live, Itachi can make it work.

Kurenai hesitates. “It’s just -- ” she hedges. “He’s a bit…” she trails off. 

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Itachi’s stomach. “He is a nuke-nin.” 

Asuma snorts. “No!” Kurenai rushes to reassure him. “No, he’s a jounin in Konoha.”

A peer, then. Ideal. “What is his name?”

Asuma shakes his head, huffing out a silent laugh. Kurenai bites her lip and then says, reluctantly, “Maito Gai.” 

Maito Gai. The name is a little strange, likely foreign, but Itachi dismisses it -- loyalty to Konoha does not always mean the shinobi’s forebears hailed from Hi no Kuni. “Where might I find Maito-san?” he asks.

“Training,” answers Asuma, muffled by the way he rubs at his temples with his fingers. “That guy’s always training. If he’s not eating, sleeping, or on a mission, he’s training.”

“Try Training Ground 33,” suggests Kurenai. “It’s a favorite of his.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Itachi tells them both. Kurenai smiles at him as he takes his leave, a little bemused but sweet nonetheless. Asuma flaps a hand at him with the weary air of one much older than his actual age. 

It is not a strange time to be training, dusk, and training is not a questionable pastime for a shinobi to have. Itachi exits the bar back into the clear, crisp air and takes to the rooftops. This is the most solid lead Itachi has uncovered on his mission, and he is both cautiously optimistic and not quite sure as to the reason behind Asuma’s reticence regarding this shinobi’s identity. Perhaps he, like Kakashi, is a reclusive person.

Training Ground 33 is a strange choice of training ground. Instead of the forested terrain that makes up most of Konoha’s training grounds, it is rather barren -- more stone and dirt than trees, and those trees that do grow there are ancient and massive, wider across than the span of Itachi’s fingertips. 

There is a strange silhouette darting through the trees. Itachi, not wanting to startle his target if it is in fact Gai, calls out, “Maito-san?” 

The silhouette zooms towards Itachi, whereupon he realizes that firstly, the figure is indeed a man, and secondly, that it is a man running on his hands, upside down. He tenses, but the upside-down man screeches to a stop just in front of him and regards him with wide eyes. 

The upside-down man is wearing a flak jacket over a vivid green jumpsuit that is very, very formfitting. 

**“YOSH!”** bellows the upside-down man. Itachi flinches at the volume, and thoughtfully, the upside-down man modulates his voice somewhat. “YOSH,” he booms. “HAVE YOU COME TO EMBRACE YOUR YOUTHFUL SPIRIT?”

The upside-down man may as well be speaking an entirely alien language. Itachi blinks. “Are you Maito-san?” he tries again. 

“INDEED I AM,” exclaims the upside-down man. “BUT YOU MUST CALL ME GAI! IT IS UNYOUTHFUL TO BE A STRANGER TO A SHINOBI COMRADE.” He beams, light glinting off his teeth, and flashes Itachi a thumbs up which is actually a thumbs down due to him being upside-down.

“Gai-san, then,” says Itachi, feeling as though the upside-down man has perhaps struck him repeatedly over the head while his guard was down. He realizes, belatedly, that this is probably what Asuma wished to warn him of. 

“HAVE YOU COME TO TRAIN?” asks the upside-down man with hopeful eagerness. “I SEE THE FLAMES OF YOUTH WITHIN YOU! STOKE THEM WITH ME, MY FRIEND!” 

Itachi is suddenly much less certain about this lead. This jounin is just about the exact opposite of Kakashi -- perhaps Kurenai had been untruthful?” Nevertheless, he says, “I did not come to train, Gai-san. I was informed that you are acquainted with Hatake Kakashi?”

The upside-down man vibrates right back onto his feet. “MY ETERNAL RIVAL! INDEED, I AM VERY WELL ACQUAINTED WITH THE HIP AND COOL KAKASHI!”

That is...an unexpected answer. Itachi claws his unravelling thoughts back into a relatively coherent bundle. “You are still in regular contact with him?” he presses, just to be sure.

Gai clenches his fist, and Itachi is rather alarmed to see actual tears trickling from the formerly-upside-down man’s eyes. “BUT OF COURSE!” he cries. “WE PARTAKE IN REGULAR CHALLENGES OF SKILL! HE HAS THE BETTER OF ME NOW, BUT I WILL SURELY WIN THE NEXT CONTEST!” He pauses to peer at Itachi with surprisingly keen eyes. “But why are you inquiring after my eternal rival?” 

Itachi casts out his senses like a net, draws them in to check their surroundings even as he steps close, even as he makes his decision. “Kakashi-sempai is recovering in the hospital after he sustained injuries during a mission,” he says. “He has no emergency contact listed and has not had any visitors.”

Gai lunges at him, and an instinctive kawarimi only barely gets Itachi away from a crushing hug. “AND YOU ARE CONCERNED FOR HIM!” Gai is actually bawling now, tears streaming down his face as he blubbers against the chunk of wood that had taken Itachi’s place. “THAT IS SO YOUTHFUL OF YOU, MY FRIEND! OF COURSE, I WILL GO TO VISIT MY ETERNAL RIVAL!” 

Itachi watches the man cradle the piece of wood and wonders, not for the first time, if this was really the best course of action. But there was a brief lucidity to the man's madness, and Itachi is determined to see his mission succeed, even partially. "If we were to meet in the hospital lobby in thirty minutes," begins Itachi, "would that be amenable to you?"

"But Of Course!" Gai declares with another blinding grin. "The Fires of Youth Burn Brightly in you, my friend! My Eternal Rival has a Very Good kouhai looking after him."

Itachi decides to take that at face value. "I will see you in thirty minutes, Gai-san," he says, inclines his head, and enacts a fast retreat from the training ground.

Itachi has not slept since his four hour nap, and before that, the previous night. He had functioned adequately, but after the encounter with Gai, he experiences an almost overwhelming wave of fatigue pushing him to take a nap.

He does not take a nap.

Instead, he stops by his own apartment. Hoheto's half-sister’s uncle’s son-in-law’s cousin had brought him soup; Seitarou's sisters had brought him sandwiches and sympathy cards. Yuugao's sister had brought her a plush animal toy and Hayate had brought her flowers and Tenzou books and playing cards. Kakashi has none of these save the flowers Itachi brought earlier, so he scours his shelves for an acceptable substitute. He does not own playing cards, plush animal toys, or sandwich ingredients. He does own books. 

His books are by and large technique theory and weapons manuals, which he had been informed is not typically read by patients in recovery. He owns exactly one novel, which had been a gift from Sasuke for his birthday four years ago -- entitled  _ The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,  _ Itachi had been somewhat concerned after reading it until his mother had assured him that Sasuke had chosen the book based on its colorful cover and not its written contents. He does not know if it is a book Kakashi will like, but given the dearth of other options, collects it from its place on the shelf. 

Fourteen minutes to meet Gai at the hospital. Itachi locks and traps his apartment behind him and makes his way over the rooftops in the dark of the rising moon. He's plotted his route very precisely and drops down into an alleyway a few blocks from the hospital off the main road. He turns the corner and stops in front of a small food stand that has been run by the same family for as long as Itachi can remember. The obaa-san leans out of the window and spots him immediately, a warm smile lighting up her weathered face. "Itachi-kun!" she calls. "Why, I haven't seen you in months!"

"Ohaiyou, Murakami-baasan," says Itachi. "Two miso soup to go, please." He remembers Gai and amends it to, "Three miso soup."

Murakami-baasan dimples at him. "A nice dinner treat for the family, eh, Itachi-kun? Coming right up!" She whisks to the back before Itachi can correct her.

Itachi does not have time to make soup himself, and this is the closest approximation he can manage. When Itachi was young and his mother had fallen ill, his father had brought her soup from Murakami-baasan's stand because he was hopeless at cooking anything not roasted over an open fire. "Homemade," he'd called it, a glimmer of humor lightening his stern face. "Just not by me."

"My hero," Mikoto had rasped with dry humor, and Fugaku had gone to scorch her some tea. 

Itachi's order comes out steaming and fragrant in its paper bag. Murakami-baasan trades it to him for a handful of ryou with a fond smile and says, "I threw in a little order of soup dumplings for you." 

"Murakami-baasan, that is too much," says Itachi, startled, as he checks the bag reflexively.

"If you give it back now, I'll just have to throw it out," tuts Murakami-baasan. "Have a good dinner, Itachi-kun," she says, eyes twinkling, and turns to help another customer.

Itachi's timer is running down. He chooses the path of least resistance. "Thank you, Baasan," he says, and whisks down the alley. 

Gai is already in the hospital lobby, alarming the staff by standing completely still but still giving the appearance of someone quivering too fast for the eye to see. There is a large box sitting beside him that contains flowers and what looks like stuffed dog plush toys. He spots Itachi on his approach and lights up so obviously that every occupant of the lobby turns to stare in alarm. "My Youthful Friend!" he cries, having considerately lowered his voice in deference to the setting. 

"Gai-san," returns Itachi, and expedites his chosen path so as to distance himself from the lobby and its occupants as soon as possible. 

Gai follows him, thankfully in a more discreet manner, and the deeper into the hospital they wind, the more his demeanor shifts towards sober and watchful. By the time they reach the wing where Ro-Han is assigned, he exudes harnessed energy that is focussed, not scattered. "Sandaime-sama rejected my application to join Anbu," Gai says suddenly as they pass the rotational Anbu hall. "He told me that those who shine too brightly cannot hide in the shadows."

"His words were wise," Itachi says, neutral. He cannot imagine even this more serious Gai as an Anbu operative.

"Perhaps," Gai agrees without resentment, without ego or pride. "But stay too long in the shadows and they will smother the most persistent light."

It has the edge of a warning -- for him or for Kakashi, Itachi cannot tell. Gai smiles when Itachi lets the silence stretch, more subdued than his earlier grins. "But sometimes a candle standing alone cannot leave unless it is carried out, eh?" 

Itachi mulls the words over silently and again does not respond. 

Kakashi's ward is virtually untouched -- someone has put the flowers in a plain glass vase, and the clipboard at the end of the bed has new writing on it, but otherwise, it looks exactly as it had when Itachi visited earlier in the evening. 

He glances back at Gai. Gai, sniffling, wipes away a tear as he takes in Kakashi's still form and the flowers on the sideboard. "Yosh!" he whisper-yells. "My Eternal Rival, So Hip Even When He Is Unconscious! He Fought Bravely To Defend Konoha With The Fires Of His Youth!"

Itachi blinks at the return of the upside-down man demeanor but otherwise does not react save to set his novel and bag of takeout on the counter. Gai takes the opportunity to offload his own burdens. 

He had, in the half hour preceding, located enough flowers to swamp the rest of the sideboard, but rather than purchased flowers, these are imperfect and lightly flecked in mud, cut at ragged lengths and intermixed with other non-flowering plants. Itachi suspected he had gone to a training ground with a field and relieved it of its wildflowers, enthusiastically, with a kunai. After the flowers, Gai upends the rest of the box onto Kakashi's bed, and a tiny shower of plush toys rains down. 

They are dogs, every one of them, the smallest the size of a keychain and the largest the height of Itachi's knees at the shoulder. "My Eternal Rival Is Wonderfully Fond Of His Summons," Gai explains, smiling tremulously through his tears. "I Would Bring Them Here To Replenish His Youthful Spirit If I Could." Instead, Gai has brought the next closest thing. 

Kakashi’s senses are normally heightened, Itachi knows, and he keeps them dampened most of the time, but weakened and injured he will not be able to filter as effectively. Many shinobi, notoriously the Inuzuka, are overstimulated in hospital rooms unless precautions are taken to mute the usual sounds and smells. Itachi has now brought into Kakashi’s hospital room flowers, soup, and Gai. 

Kakashi’s breathing does not twitch and he makes no indication that he has moved from unconscious to conscious until his eye peels open. If he were in enemy territory, captured and left in a prison somewhere, his wakening might have gone unnoticed. However, he is in a hospital and Gai and Itachi are both watching him.

The eye focuses, fuzzily. “Oh,” Kakashi mutters, and closes his eye again.

Gai swells like a mating bullfrog. “MY ETERNAL RIVAL!” he exclaims joyously. “YOU HAVE AWAKENED!”

“No,” Kakashi disagrees, keeping his eye shut. 

Gai is not deterred. “YOUR YOUTHFULNESS HAS PREVAILED ONCE MORE!”

“No, it hasn’t.” Kakashi slides down further into the blankets so only his forehead is visible. He doesn’t make a sound, but the heart monitor blinks a warning light as the adrenaline from the pain spikes his heart rate.

“Gai-san,” Itachi interjects. “The light is flashing. Do you think Kakashi-sempai needs medical attention?”

Gai recoils as though zapped by a raiton. “FEAR NOT, ETERNAL RIVAL!” he bellows. “I WILL FIND AN IRYOU-NIN FOR YOU IMMEDIATELY.”

“No, no,” says Kakashi vaguely, but Gai is not listening. 

“I WILL RETURN!” Gai announces, and charges out the door. 

Itachi, by now, concludes that he has made a grave mistake. He has been deceived by Gai’s supposedly demonstrated closeness with Kakashi, but now it is apparent that the affection is one-sided. 

He wonders if now is too late to slip out the room. Kakashi’s senses are too acute for to pretend he was never there, but perhaps if he departs now he can mitigate the damage. Perhaps he can insinuate that the drugs they are feeding him intravenously caused olfactory hallucinations.

“Itachi-kun,” says Kakashi, just as Itachi starts to turn towards the doorway. 

Itachi freezes. “Kakashi-sempai,” he says, his voice comfortingly steady even as his mind flashes through panicked possibilities -- lie, wish him well, apologize. 

“Did you bring him here?” Kakashi asks, his voice mild and unreadable. He pulls down the blankets so he can watch Itachi with a surprisingly sharp eye. 

“Hai,” says Itachi, and braces himself for the fallout.

Kakashi’s eye curves into a smile. “Thank you,” he says. “That was thoughtful of you.”

Itachi does not have enough sleep, again. He has not eaten since the soup he shared with Kakashi and Gai the previous night, and when his internal clock wakes him promptly at six-thirty, he drags himself upright grimly. When he shuffles into his kitchen, the familiar cream-colored card on his table catches his attention and diverts him from his intended destination. 

Yuri isn't in the flat, so she has come and gone. Itachi reads the familiar words though he has long since memorized every looping kana, every hesitation mark where his mother's pen paused.  _ Itachi-kun, your brother and I would love to see you for dinner tomorrow night. Your Kaa-san.  _ He runs a finger over the inked words. Then he shifts the card to its box and continues to the kitchen. 

There are leftovers in the refrigerator, and Itachi's hands move automatically to take them out, to get a batch of rice going. Konoha will not stop, and Itachi has no choice but to keep up. He turns off the stove, covers the pot, and goes out for a run.

Kakashi is not at the Hokage’s office when Itachi reports to the Hokage Tower for his shift, nor was Itachi expecting him to be. He bows his greeting to the Sandaime, who greets him with an absent, “Ah, good morning, Itachi-kun. I hope you are well rested.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” says Itachi, and slides into place at his shoulder as the Sandaime moves to his conference room for the first meeting of the day.

The first chance either of them take to breathe is just before lunch, after a whirlwind of meetings and briefings and strategy sessions. They are settled at their respective desks, papers covering the surfaces, and Itachi has only just begun to immerse himself in a missive on the ongoing Whispering Crowns case when the Hokage says, “Have you gone to visit Kakashi-kun?”

Itachi pauses, glancing up from the report. “Hai, Hokage-sama. I visited him last night.” 

The Hokage nods, reaches for his pipe and takes a slow draw. “He will recover,” he says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” agrees Itachi. “He was awake for some of that time. The prognosis is positive.”

The Sandaime’s mouth curls up at the corner and he hums. “He is a resilient one, Kakashi. Will you be seeing him again today?” 

Itachi pauses. His team is in the hospital, as is Kakashi. The only other plans he may have for the evening are training, again, or bringing home some of the backlogged paperwork to go over. “Yes,” he decides. He will visit them all again.

The Hokage takes a pleased puff from his pipe. “Good, good,” he says, and doesn’t speak again before Itachi leaves for his lunch break.

Itachi has eaten lunch alone, in the past. Until very recently, he ate lunch alone nearly every day. Today, however, as he takes his packed bento up to the top of the Hokage Mountain, he realizes that without Seitarou’s bright chatter, Hoheto’s longsuffering side comments, and Yuugao’s good-natured humour, without Tenzou’s steady presence and without Kakashi’s watchful eye, he is not only alone, but lonely. 

It is jarring to realize. 

It is a thought that clings to the back of his mind as he returns to work until the Hokage dismisses him from the afternoon, again far earlier than is the norm, and follows him until he reaches the wing in the hospital in which Ro-Han are recovering. 

There's Yuugao's high voice and Hoheto's lower cadences and even stifled laughter filtering out of Hoheto and Seitarou's room, and when Itachi reaches the doorway he sees that Hoheto's bed had been wheeled closer to Seitarou's, and that Hoshiyo, Poemu, and Hisoka are no longer there. Yuugao, perched on the end of Hoheto's bed, looks up with a bright smile when she catches sight of him. 

"Cap!" she says, and waves him over with her eyes bright with mischief. "Come here, this is great."

Itachi glances at Hoheto, who shrugs a little, faintly embarrassed, and says, "Your company is appreciated, Cap."

Yuugao, impatiently, says, "Check this out." She clears her throat, says in a deliberately clear voice, "Seitarou-kun, how many guards are stationed at the tower between the East and South gates of Konoha?"

Seitarou, his eyes open but glazed, slurs, "Grass. I lied about the wheels."

Yuugao stifles a giggle. Itachi, bemused, looks at Hoheto.

"He is responding with common jokes, but only the punchline," Hoheto explains, and demonstrates. "Where is the main back entrance to Anbu headquarters?"

"A can't opener," says Seitarou, and Yuugao dissolves into giggles again. 

"What times does the Hokage's guard change take place?" she asks once she has recovered her breath. 

"Light grey," is the mumbled answer. If nothing else, it is an effective interrogation resistance technique.

Yuugao pats his hair fondly. "What a good kid," she says. 

"You are all doing well, then?" Itachi inquires, giving them each a visible check. There are no new patches of blood on their bandages, no tightness in the way they hold themselves that suggest pain. Hoheto is still pale and Yuugao's hair is greasy at the roots and tangled at the ends but they otherwise appear to be in good spirits.

"Well and recovering," confirms Hoheto. "The attending iryou-nin informed me that I need only stay another two days for observation before continuing to recuperate at home."

"I've got one day left, on account of the chakra exhaustion," adds Yuugao. "Seitarou they're not sure yet, but once he wakes up properly it won't be much longer. Same for Tenzou."

"Have you news on the captain?" Hoheto asks. "We are blocked from direct access for security reasons."

"He is recovering as well," Itachi reports. "I will check in with him before I leave."

"Good," says Yuugao with a smile.

"He carried the rookie most of the way back until we met the search and rescue team," Hoheto says, wry. "I could see his ribs were fractured but he insisted that I be unburdened as the sensor and first line of defense."

"He took a hit from a bad genjutsu, but he didn't stay down," adds Yuugao. "Shi -- the target," she amends smoothly, "was still faster than we expected."

"I will read the details in the after-action reports," Itachi assures her, and does not delve into the quick glance she trades with Hoheto. "I will leave you to rest, now," he says.

"Bye, Cap," says Yuugao, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Cap," says Hoheto with a nod.

Itachi takes his leave, passes into the hallway and then the next, and pauses at the doorway to check on Tenzou. He is asleep, his breathing deep and even, and in Yuugao's vacated bed, Hayate and Gazeru are curled up back to back with a blanket thrown loosely over them both. The lights are dimmed and Tenzou's monitors blinking calmly. Itachi leaves as silently as he had arrived. 

Kakashi's window blinds are open to let in the afternoon sun, and he's sitting up in bed with a surgical mask on in lieu of his regular cloth mask and  _ The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle _ open in his lap. "This was an interesting choice of reading material, Itachi-kun," he says, and then looks up. "Do you have anything to tell me?"

Itachi stares back blankly. "Hoheto and Yuugao are greatly recovered," he tries. "Seitarou -- "

"Not report. Tell," Kakashi interrupts, and raises an eyebrow. And then wiggles it. Suggestively. 

Itachi, as a shinobi, is trained and ready to react to nearly any situation he might face. He is not, however, remotely prepared to respond to this one. 

"Maa, Itachi-kun, you're breaking my heart," Kakashi drawls, shutting the book in his lap. He nods at the sideboard. "You sent me daffodils."

Itachi grimaces. 

There is detritus scattered around the room -- empty noodle cups, scattered chopsticks, bits of flower petals and scraps of tissue. Itachi has not seen Kakashi's apartment but knows the man well enough that it will be neat and sparse, and though he seems capable of getting out of bed it does not appear as though he has.

"Gai finally left about an hour ago," comments Kakashi, dry, as though he had heard Itachi's thoughts. "I convinced him not to miss his evening training session."

Twenty hours of Maito Gai is scarcely something Itachi can imagine. He hesitates, torn between neutrality or an apology.

"Gai is the only one who never cared what I was," Kakashi muses aloud in response to Itachi's silence. "He was an Academy student and I was a jounin, and he never stopped challenging me, again and again even as he rose through the ranks. He didn't care how many people I had killed or how many people around me had died, didn't care that the first time we met that I could have killed him with my eyes closed. To him, we have always been equals."

"The path he travelled greatly diverged from yours," Itachi points out. "I admit I thought it strange that you and he had an amicable friendship. He cannot understand your experiences, nor you his."

"Gai has never hated me or feared me or resented me," Kakashi says, and Itachi knows the colorful, tragic career that feeds the shadows in Kakashi's eye. "And I won't ever look at him and think that he's too loud or bizarre or unfit for his rank. That's not a common thing for either of us."

It is not understanding, then, but unconditional acceptance. And that, Itachi has found, is a rare thing indeed.

Itachi had thought Kakashi needed an anchor, but he'd already had one -- he'd only needed reminding of it. Itachi was the one who was drifting unmoored. 

"You staying for dinner?" Kakashi asks. "I hear they're serving lime jello today."

"No," says Itachi, distantly, because he knows now that he needs to level the playing field, to eliminate his weakness. "I will see you again tomorrow, Taichou."

Kakashi tips him a salute with the book. "Oyasumi, Itachi-kun."

Itachi exits the hospital in a hypervigilant daze, his body responding automatically to obstacles without truly penetrating his thoughts. It is his mission mindset, untouched by the faint panic and recrimination and fear and hope that bubbles and festers and threatens to boil over.

He stops by his apartment only long enough to take off his flak jacket, but leaves the chuunin dark blues, before making his way back out to the streets. It is the golden hour now, and the sunset washes over the rooftops and gives the streets a warm glow. Most of the stores have begun tidying up, but the tea shop where Itachi stops will be open until late evening. 

There are massive glass jars of dried tea leaves sold by weight behind the counter, boxes of prepackaged teabags and cans of looseleaf on the shelves. Itachi goes to the counter, but instead of requesting his usual order, he tells the shopkeeper, "A gift box, please. The set from the Kazusa Region in Shimo no Kuni, if you have it."

"Not buying for yourself tonight, customer-san," notes the shopkeeper without any real interest, and wraps the box for him with little fanfare. Thus armed, Itachi gathers his resolve and departs.

Itachi has never set foot inside the new Uchiha District. It is a neighborhood more than a compound, with a wooden gateway that separates it from the next street but not a soul to guard it, and Itachi crosses inside with a faint combination of wariness and wonder. 

Tenzou grew those gates; the Yamanaka and the Nara paid for that mission and many renovations besides. The Hyuuga painted the walls with sensor seals and alarm seals, and the Aburame ensured that each person would have a futon to sleep in. The Akimichi and the Inuzuka made sure the pantries and refrigerators were stocked for those moving in. 

Uchiha Fugaku would have rejected the aid were he alive, but pride is for men who do not know how much they stand to lose. Uchiha Mikoto is smarter than that. The massacre of the Konoha Military Police had devastated the Uchiha Clan, but because of Mikoto, because of Konoha, both the KMP and the Uchiha yet survived.

This is not the home that Itachi grew up in. It is not his current residence, nor has it ever been his place of residence. But Itachi knows the way by heart nonetheless and his breath rasps audibly in his throat as he follows that path faithfully.

His destination is a house identical to every house beside it, with a plain wooden door that is no different than any other front door. But this house is the only one to which he has the key, sent with the first invitation three years ago, and now, for the first time, he sets the key in the lock and turns it, turns the doorknob, and opens the door.

"Tadaima," he says, more to himself than to anyone inside.

This is home.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to cor(o)n(avirus) I've had some time to write. I think this is fluff but I am inexperienced in writing fluff. Slowing things down this chapter because there was plenty of plot last chapter imo, and I could have actually ended the story at this chapter plotwise, but there's still a bit further to go in this story at least. Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Those of you who are still waiting after Rise: CoE is in progress...2 chapters in and around 50k words so it's...going lol. 
> 
> Also: I'm part of an unofficial Ao3 discord so hit me up to join and chat, there's a lot of cool people there :)


	5. The Yearling Sparrow, Returning To Its Flock After A Lone Hunt, Having Grown During Its Time Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi slouches into the Hokage's office on a bright morning and says, "Respectfully, Hokage-sama, five days was a little excessive."  
Without looking up, the Sandaime says, "I'm quite sure I asked the hospital to keep you for another day, actually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some angst yo

The air smells like lavender and wraps him in the warmth of its familiarity. Itachi takes a deep breath to ground himself, then a second, then a third.

“Sasuke, put your backpack away and come -- ” Mikoto rounds the corner, sees Itachi, and drops her pot. She is an excellent shinobi so she catches it before it hits the ground, but there is an extra hesitation for just a moment, an extra pause. When she rises again, it is with a smile and her face is absolutely serene. “Itachi,” she says. “Just in time for dinner.” 

Itachi knows that she does not feel as calm as she looks, but he does not know what he can do about it. He is the one who has erred, yes, but she is his mother. There is no easy fix. He falls back on the etiquette she raised him on. “Do you require any assistance with the meal?” he asks.

“Oh, no, I've finished cooking,” Mikoto assures him. “Come along. Sit.” She glides into the next room.

Before it burned down, the house belonging to the Clan Head in the traditional Uchiha estates had been a sprawling, elegant creature, framed in ebony, with long halls between rooms, tatami mats on the floors, and tasteful paintings and battle-worn blades adorning the walls. It was a quiet place, a solemn place, a house steeped in tradition around which its inhabitants existed.

There is nothing expensive about these wooden walls. The only decorations he sees are the fresh lavender in the windowsill and black ink calligraphy on white school paper, and the furnishings though comfortable are utilitarian. The house is not large enough to have extensive hallways for the sake of having hallways; the entry is a three-way crossroads between the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. 

Itachi toes off his sandals, lines them neatly up next to Mikoto’s, and follows her into the dining room. 

The table is already set for three, napkins and chopsticks and empty cups next to each bowl of rice. Mikoto sets her steaming pot in the center of the table, smiles at him, and says, “I’m sure Sasuke will be along in just a minute.” 

“Is he practicing late at the Academy again?” Itachi asks, as if it is normal, as if three days have passed rather than three years. 

“Actually, his class had a field day at the Naka River today,” Mikoto says, pouring them each a cup of tea.

The front door swings open and slams shut, and Itachi almost flinches when Sasuke skids into the room. “Hi, Kaa-san, sorry I’m late,” he pants, and then notices that she is not alone. Itachi’s little brother is not yet skilled at hiding his expression, and his emotions flash across his face in painstaking detail: surprise, joy, resentment, suspicion. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sasuke,” Mikoto chides. “That’s no way to greet your brother. Put your things in your room and come back down for dinner.”

Sasuke glances between them warily, as if they will either vanish or fight to the death as soon as he takes his eyes off them, and turns around without a word. His footsteps thump through the living room and up a set of stairs.

Itachi folds his hands neatly in his lap and asks, “Have you been well?”

Mikoto’s smile softens. “Itachi -- ” she says, and trails off. “Yes, I have been well.” She is still in uniform, but there is an apron tied neatly over her flak jacket.

Seeing that incongruity is what helps Itachi recognize the problem: he is proceeding as if everything is the same as it was, but everything is different. No one sits at the head of the table. Fugaku’s ink portrait hangs in the living room. Mikoto is the Uchiha Clan Head and the captain of the military police, and Itachi is --

Itachi is a shinobi, an Anbu, the Hokage’s aide and one of Konoha’s most talented protectors. He is also the son who let his father be killed, who failed to protect or avenge his clan and abandoned his grieving mother and brother. Itachi had always lived his life diligently as a shinobi, filially as a son. After he failed the second, he threw himself into the first.

Thundering footsteps herald Sasuke’s return. Fugaku would have scolded him for it, but Mikoto only winces delicately, and Itachi knows she must be thinking of her floors more than Sasuke’s supposed lack of shinobi stealthiness. 

There is an empty place setting next to Itachi, but instead, Sasuke sits across the table from it, next to Mikoto, and pulls the whole thing over to him. There's a stormy cast to his eyes, and Itachi realizes that his initial instinct was right -- he does not belong here, he is not welcome, and his continued presence will only exacerbate the reminder of grief in their new lives. It is immeasurably rude to leave in the middle of a meal, but once it concludes, Itachi will not return. 

"Itadakimasu," mutters Sasuke, and attacks the food without further comment. He is eight now, childhood roundness still clinging to his cheeks, and his hair is longer and shaggier. Itachi watches those shadowed eyes and remembers when they were bright and curious. 

"Are you busy tonight, Itachi?" Mikoto asks, reaching across the table to lay a piece of fish on Itachi's rice. "Sasuke would love to show you what he's learning at the Academy."

"Kaa-san!" complains Sasuke, surfacing from his bowl to scowl at her.

"I intended to retire early tonight," evades Itachi. "Hokage-sama's office is somewhat understaffed at the moment, and I may need to work additional hours."

"Tomorrow night, then," Mikoto says, undeterred, with the calm certainty of one who knows she will get her way. "I will make tea and dango when you return."

"Dango?" Sasuke says, wrinkling his nose. 

"I may be persuaded to add a scrambled egg and tomato dish to the dessert menu," adds Mikoto thoughtfully. 

Sasuke sighs and says, with exaggerated reluctance, "I'll help you with the dishes tonight, Kaa-san."

"Why, how generous of you," Mikoto teases gently, and hides a smile when Sasuke grumbles wordlessly and ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning red. She turns the same fond look on Itachi. "When and where would you like him to meet you?"

Unless Itachi resorts to unpleasant tactics, he has lost this battle. His mother had calculated this much, measured Itachi's guilt to predict his actions. They both know he will not do anything but concede, that he will not fight the trap closing in around him. He directs his question to Sasuke. "Would it be acceptable if I met you outside the Academy after classes end?"

Without looking up, Sasuke shrugs. "Sure, I guess."

"Excellent," says Mikoto pleasantly. "It's settled. I'll look forward to it."

“Good morning, Itachi-kun. You look terrible.”

Itachi turns and stares. “Kakashi-sempai. Did the medic-nin already discharge you from the hospital?” 

Kakashi, looking approximately as solid as a river reed, beams behind his mask. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m fighting fit.”

Itachi, who is fairly certain that an Academy student could simply shove the man over, politely doesn’t comment.

The Hokage looks up when they walk in, immediately zeroes in on Kakashi, and sighs deeply. “Good morning, Itachi-kun. Kakashi-kun, I don’t believe you are cleared for duty.”

Itachi shoots Kakashi a sideways look. Kakashi, unbothered, sketches a bow that nearly topples him and says, “Though I am prepared to defend you and Konoha to my dying breath, I have no intention of doing so today, Hokage-sama,” which once again comes off as borderline treasonous but which the Sandaime just rubs his temple at.

There’s a knock at the door. Minari sticks her head in. “Sorry, Hokage-sama, but Genin Inuzuka Hana with Haimaru, Haimaru, and Haimaru from the Search and Rescue Division are here for Kakashi-san?”

Minari, Itachi, and the Sandaime all turn to look at Kakashi, who widens his eye. “There must be some sort of mistake,” Kakashi says hopefully.

The Sandaime looks like he would like to drown his sorrows in something rather stronger than his green tea. “Send them in, please, Minari-kun.”

“Hi, Hokage-sama,” Hana greets cheerfully. “I apologize for the interruption, but the hospital seems to be missing one of its patients.” 

“Ah, Hana-kun,” the Sandaime says, and nods when she bows. The Haimaru brothers file in after her. One of them wags his tail when he makes eye contact with Itachi, and Itachi tips his head very slightly in response. "How are you finding your internship, Hana-kun?"

"It's loads of fun, Hokage-sama," she assures him. "I love tracking down the hospital runaways. For their own good," she adds hastily. "It's great experience for me and the boys." The three Haimaru brothers swish their tails in eerie unison, and as one, swing their heads around to stare at Kakashi with hungry eyes.

“I want it noted,” says Kakashi with wounded dignity and likely even more wounded internal organs, “that I think attaching a Search and Rescue contingent to the hospital’s inpatient ward is a gross misuse of Village resources.”

“You are an excellent example of why the arrangement was implemented,” says the Sandaime wearily. “Hana-kun, you may proceed.”

"Thanks, Hokage-sama," Hana chirps, grinning at Kakashi. "Hatake-san, right this way, please."

Kakashi very visibly debates fleeing out the window and shoots Itachi a betrayed stare when Itachi shifts ever so slightly to block his would-be escape. “Maa, I suppose it would be irresponsible of me to leave my teammates alone to suffer,” he says magnanimously. “I’ll return tomorrow morning, Hokage-sama.”

“No, you will not,” returns the Sandaime without looking up.

“Tomorrow evening, then,” says Kakashi, dauntless. “Hana-san? Three-Haimaru-san?”

The door closes behind them. The Sandaime stares at nothing in particular for a long moment. “Itachi-kun.”

Itachi straightens. “Hai, Hokage-sama.”

The Sandaime sweeps his notes into a neat stack before him. “Unfortunately, given the events of the past few days, we are rather behind schedule. You will oversee the Residential Development Committee meeting in fifteen minutes. Minari will be accompanying me to the Intelligence Department instead. Please relay my regrets to the committee.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” Itachi responds automatically, and does not panic.

When shinobi see someone under the age of majority holding a position of power -- child jounin, teen Anbu, young wardens -- their first reaction is wariness, because those are not given easily nor easily survivable. In the end, shinobi respect ranks because they are earned by strength. In comparison, when civilians see a young shinobi, their primary reaction regardless of that shinobi’s rank is disbelief, condescension, and outrage. 

Had the Sandaime ordered Itachi to lead an operations strategy meeting, he would have no trouble at all. Civilians, however, are a different battleground altogether. 

"Operative Deer-4 will accompany you," the Sandaime adds, and one of his guards drops out of the rafters and lands in a low crouch.

"Understood," says Itachi, giving the Anbu a nod.

The Sandaime stands, collects his notes, and says, "I'll speak with you after the meetings, Itachi-kun." He exits the office in a billow of his robes and leaves silence in his wake.

Deer-4 stands and looks at Itachi. Itachi looks at Deer-4. "Good morning," says Itachi. Deer-4 wiggles his fingers at him in a wave. 

Itachi throws a glance over his shoulder at the clock and scrambles as gracefully as he can to find the meeting agenda for the Residential Development Committee. Kakashi drafted it days ago, and Itachi glanced it over and submitted it to the Hokage sometime during Ro-Han's mission. He finds it, grabs a notebook and a couple pens, and heads for the door. 

Deer-4 keeps pace with him easily, keeping pace at his shoulder as he hurries down the hall. Itachi says, "I appreciate your assistance, Anbu-san. Do you happen to have any insights to this committee? I have not yet worked with them."

It's one of the tamer ones, he knows that much at least. They are not as chaotic as the Civilian Complaints Committee or as stubborn as the Artisan Guild Leadership Collective. 

Deer-4 signs with both hands:  _ Talk. Lots.  _ He shrugs.

Right. Most Anbu have absolutely no interest in the goings on of civilian politics. Itachi had once been assigned a rotation on Hokage Guard, and his teammates had spent the entirety of the time during civilian committee meetings peacefully zoning out.

The conference room designated for this meeting is one floor down from the Hokage's office. Itachi opens the doors without hesitation and Deer-4 flickers up to the ceiling before any of the inhabitants are the wiser. 

Some of them turn at the sound of the door opening, and then turn away again when they see only Itachi. Others don't look up from murmured conversation or their plates of refreshments. Itachi makes his way to the conference table, arranging his things at the head. That draws more attention, but Itachi pays no mind until most of the conversation has stalled and most of the eyes are on him. 

Itachi glances up, then, and says, "Good morning. My name is Uchiha Itachi, one of the Hokage's aides. The Sandaime has been called to attend a time-sensitive matter and sends his regrets that he could not be here today."

From the ceiling, Deer-4 gives him a thumbs up.

The civilians are not at all subtle when they trade dark looks, and the indignant whispers between bent heads rise to a crescendo.

"Hold up," says one man, bracing his hands against the table and leaning forward. "You tryna tell us the Hokage cancelled this meeting and we all came here for nothing?"

"No," says Itachi, pitching his voice over the buzz of the room. "I will be moderating this meeting and recording the information you present. You will be notified of the Hokage's decision at a later time."

"How much later, young man?" demands a woman with wrinkles around her mouth and white streaked through her hair. "My daughter is getting married in two weeks. What will she do if she has no house to move into?"

Itachi is rather certain that she neither wants nor expects a logical answer from him regarding the latter, so he refrains. "Processing after Sandaime-sama's decision may take up to one to three days," he replies. 

"This is ridiculous," complains a heavyset man with a scowl. "Get the Hokage here, we'll wait. We came here for him to make decisions, not some paper pusher to fuss around and tell us what to do."

Itachi glances down to make sure he is indeed wearing his flak jacket. He is. It is his age, then, that invites the man's words. "I am representing Hokage-sama in this meeting," he says evenly. "All information will be relayed directly to him. If you choose to leave now, your petition will be denied." Unseen by the rest of the room, Deer-4 shoots him another thumbs up. And before anyone else can bombard him with questions or demands he doesn't particularly want to address, Itachi asks, "Are you ready to begin?"

This triggers an automatic migration to the table, even the more antagonistic of the group. The man who demanded the Sandaime’s presence leans back in his seat with an openly disgruntled glower. Itachi glances down at the agenda. It is organized and straightforward, of course, because Kakashi is nothing if not reluctantly meticulous. 

"First order of business," Itachi says, recording in his notebook as he talks “We have all eight committee members present, as well as nine petition representatives. Please state your names for the record.”

Itachi, though he has an early finish, is strangely tired by the time he leaves the Hokage Tower for the day. Instead of returning to his flat, however, he turns and takes a route that is far more unfamiliar to him. The sun is still out; the day hovers between afternoon and evening. 

Itachi hears the chatter from the Academy long before its fences come into view. 

By third year, parents no longer pick up students after classes end. There is a pack of Inuzuka romping the grounds, ninken and children from ages seven to twelve caught up in a rowdy whirlwind. The Aburame contingent occupy a much more inconspicuous corner. The Yamanaka, with their pale blond hair, stand out amongst the muddle of dark-headed Nara and Akimichi. 

One of them detaches from the crowd, and Itachi watches with more curiosity than alarm as it charges over, trailing three other children in its wake. "Uchiha-san!" Ino chirps. Her tails are a Nara, an Akimichi, and a girl with pink hair, who eye him with complete disinterest, confusion, and polite curiosity respectively. "Uchiha-san, are you here for Sasuke-kun?"

Itachi looks instinctively across the schoolyard for the solemn huddle of red-and-white Uchiha fans --

\-- and doesn’t find it, because it has been three years and life, inexorably, continues on its way. The Uchiha, though they mourn their lost members, are not in mourning anymore. Instead, the Uchiha students are, if rather more reserved than some of their counterparts, a lighthearted tangle next to the shade of the building.

"Yes," Itachi says, watching that group of dark hair distantly. "I am."

The Nara manages to give Itachi a look that is both piercing and uninterested and says, long-suffering, "Ino -- "

"Oh!" Ino exclaims. "Where are my manners? Uchiha-san, these are my friends: Nara Shikamaru, Akimichi Chouji, and this is Haruno Sakura, my best friend. It's lovely to see you again!"

The Nara sighs but raises his hand dutifully. The Akimichi waves cheerfully and tips the rest of his bag of chips into his mouth. Haruno Sakura bows properly and says, "It's nice to meet you, Uchiha-san," while peeking at him from beneath her eyelashes. 

"If you'll excuse me," Itachi says, spotting the familiar spikes of dark hair that have always refused to be tamed. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Shikamaru-kun, Chouji-kun, and Sakura-chan, and to see you again, Ino-chan. Please get along kindly with my brother."

He turns to go, and Ino heaves a sigh behind him. "Sasuke-kun's all yours, Sakura. I need a real man."

Chouji chokes on his chips, and Shikamaru audibly slaps a hand against his forehead. Sakura squeaks a scandalized, "Ino!" 

In Itachi's opinion, Ino is rather young to be pursuing whoever it is that has caught her eye, particularly a male the age of majority, but he trusts Inoichi will curb such behaviour as he sees necessary. 

Itachi catches his second blond interruption of the hour as it hurtles towards his knees, snagging it by the collar and depositing it safely in front of him. "Naruto-kun."

Naruto grins up at him. "Hiya, Uchiha-shinobi-san! Whatcha doing -- hey!"

Neji tows Naruto back with a yank. "Apologies, Uchiha-san," he says with a short nod, glaring at Naruto out of the corner of his eyes. "Naruto has yet to complete an etiquette lesson with a satisfactory result."

"Hey!" Naruto objects, scowling. "They're not satisfying cause they're boring."

"I trust you are both well?" Itachi asks, for lack of anything better to say that will not fan the flames of this burgeoning and apparently well-rehearsed argument. 

"Yes, thank you," says Neji. 

"Yup!" Naruto says cheerfully. 

The Hyuuga heiress, inching up behind them, ducks her head in a greeting bow at Itachi. "A-ano, ah…" She trails off, tongue-tied, and her blush spreads from her cheeks to her ears. 

Naruto turns and thumps her shoulder, earning another glare from Neji. "C'mon, Hinata-chan! Just spit it out. You can do it!"

Rather than shrink entirely, as Itachi feared she might, Hinata straightens, takes a deep breath, and says, "It is n-nice to see you a-again, Uchiha-san."

"The feeling is mutual," Itachi returns, but his eyes catch on something over her shoulder. "Please excuse me," he says, and heads for Sasuke.

His brother is watching him with shadowed eyes, a frown twisting his mouth. His backpack is slung over his shoulder and he stands alone, apart from the other Uchiha and the other students with his hands in his pockets. He doesn't move when Itachi approaches, nor does his expression change.

"Sasuke," Itachi greets. "Did you have a good day in class?"

"I guess. You know a lot of my classmates," Sasuke responds, not quite looking at him. He's looking at the rest of the Uchiha instead, who are watching them back with wary curiosity. Without Sasuke, there are three. 

"Only in passing," Itachi says truthfully. "Are you ready to depart? I thought we could purchase some meals to bring to the training grounds."

"Yeah, sure," says Sasuke, which though it is an affirmative does not sound like one. He does not speak; when Itachi asks what he wishes to eat, he just shrugs. Itachi buys them both yakitori bento, with extra tomatoes in Sasuke's. 

Three years ago, they would have gone to their family's private training ground. That is no longer an option; the new Uchiha District does not have training grounds and will not unless it acquires more land. Itachi instead takes them to one of the public training grounds, typically used by genin or chuunin for casual practice. It is likely Sasuke’s first time on a public training ground like this without their mother, but he doesn’t show more interest than a glance around. 

“Would you like to show me what you are learning?” Itachi invites, after he has stood watching Sasuke watch nothing in particular for nearly a minute.

Sasuke shrugs. “Not really.”

Itachi is, frankly speaking, at a loss. His brother has also changed in three years, and though Itachi can see flashes of the little brother who followed him everywhere, Sasuke is not that person anymore. “We are at a training ground,” Itachi says, stating the obvious. “What would you like to do?”

Sasuke considers this. “Guess we should train,” he says at last. He does not sound especially enthusiastic about this.

“Perhaps I can teach you a new jutsu,” Itachi suggests. “Have you mastered any katon?”

“Yeah,” says Sasuke after a moment. “Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu. Kaa-san taught me,” he adds, unnecessarily -- he is too young for their father to have taught him before he died.

Itachi nods. “Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu is a mid range offensive ninjutsu,” he suggests. “Compared to the Gōkakyū, it has a relatively narrow area of effect but can be more precisely directed. It will be a good supplement to your arsenal.” 

“Okay,” says Sasuke, with the barest spark of interest. 

It is with a strange taste of defeat that Itachi escorts Sasuke back to his house as the sun sets behind the trees. It should not be defeat, because by all methods of measurement, they had a successful training session. Sasuke had produced a technically correct if still underpowered jutsu, and at no point had either of them engaged in a negative interaction.

They also had not engaged in any interaction that Itachi would classify as particularly positive. 

Sasuke shoulders his way in front of Itachi when they reach the door, not quite touching him as he snags his key from his pouch. The door swings open, and he calls in, “Tadaima,” just a bit louder than a normal speaking voice. Itachi follows him in.

Their mother appears, in a casual yukata instead of her uniform though she still wears her saihai at the small of her back, and her smile is open and warm. "Okaeri," she greets. "Put your things away, Sasuke, I've made up snacks for you two."

Sasuke goes without another word, and Mikoto turns to draw Itachi into the kitchen with a smile. “How was the training session?” she asks. 

Itachi hesitates, the automatic response on the tip of his tongue, but in this he does not wish to lie. 

Mikoto reads his hesitation unerringly, and her smile turns wry. “Sasuke hasn’t seen you in a while,” she says, and though her tone is without recrimination, Itachi feels a jolt of guilt. “Give him time, he’ll warm right back up to you.” 

Itachi accepts a skewer of dango from her in silence. He is not sure it will be that simple, because Sasuke's aloofness feels more practiced than emotional. 

There's a small plate to the side -- eggs scrambled with tomato, and steam rises to the glass dome covering it. Mikoto picks up the teapot beside it and pours them each a cup. It is the blend Itachi brought as a gift the previous night. He did not bring another today; perhaps he should have. It is only polite. 

But Mikoto once again knows what he is thinking without him saying a word. "Itachi," she says, and her voice is soft and sad. "You will always have a home here."

"Thank you, Kaa-san," Itachi says, and gives her a small smile to hide his sinking dread at the realization that he does not believe her.

As any good tactician does when encountering an unexpectedly strong adversary, Itachi regroups. The next day, he considers his options. Tenzou is discharged from the hospital; Yuugao has since returned to her quarters after her own discharge.

Tenzou is an orphaned science experiment with no known relatives. Yuugao has one sister. Itachi chooses the more logical of the two and makes a small pot of chicken ginseng soup after his shift ends.

It occurs to Itachi only after he is standing on Yuugao’s doorstep that he has never actually visited an injured teammate at their home. The personnel files and the knowledge that even career Anbu hate to recuperate in the barracks are the only reasons he knows where Yuugao even is, and he certainly never received an invitation from her to visit her flat. 

He knocks anyway. If nothing else, he will deliver the soup and depart. 

But Yuugao opens the door with a, “Oh, good, Cap. I just kicked Hayate out. Come in.”

Itachi tries to decipher in what context she meant  _ good  _ but follows her in. She’s limping, barely, moving with that awkward stiffness that comes with bone-deep full-body aches. Her flat is sparse, but here and there are accents that will not be found in a barracks room: an ink painting of a moonlit glen, a handful of porcelain figurines, and about a dozen pillows of assorted sizes, shapes, and colours piled in the corner. There is another pillow on the kotatsu, wrapped in a big ribbon tied in an extravagant bow. 

"Gazeru gets me a new one every time I get out of the hospital," Yuugao says, wry, when she notices his line of sight. "She thinks she's cute." So does Yuugao, by her tone.

"I have a brother. Sasuke," says Itachi. When Yuugao nods, he adds, "I had not spoken to him in some time. I have recently reconnected with him, but he is distant."

Yuugao nods. "Gazeru can get like that sometimes, especially after I come back from long missions," she says. "You know Anbu -- sometimes it's a month or longer."

"It has been three years, two months, and seventeen days," says Itachi.

Yuugao pauses. "That is a while." She looks at him for a long moment. "Is that soup for me?"

Itachi gives her the pot, and she pours them both a bowl. “All right, Cap,” she says briskly, stumping into the kitchen. Itachi half-rises, but she waves him down and sets the kettle on herself. “It sounds like you’re in need of some suggestions, but I don’t do that over food. Eat first.”

Itachi had not planned on eating the soup himself when he’d cooked it, and he certainly had not planned on Yuugao determinedly hosting him over tea and a meal while she was still out on injury. Unfortunately, it is just as rude if not more so to solicit advice and then leave before the advice is given, so he eats when Yuugao re-emerges with a tea tray.

“This is good,” Yuugao comments after a few bites, examining the soup, and then Itachi, with closer scrutiny. “Did you make this yourself?”

“I did. It is my mother’s recipe,” Itachi says, and Yuugao hums. 

“I think my mom used to make tonjiru,” she says thoughtfully. “But that was a long time ago, and I could never find a soup that tasted the same as hers.” She sets down her bowl. She does not reach for seconds. "Don't give me that look," Yuugao says, though Itachi hadn't been aware that he'd given her any particular look. "The medic-nin told me to eat small meals frequently, even when the soup tastes as good as this."

"It is good to know that you enjoy it," says Itachi automatically. 

Yuugao sweeps her cup of tea closer to her. "Now," she says. "Your brother. Three years." They both know what happened three years ago. "How did you reintroduce yourself?"

"I went to my mother's house for dinner," Itachi answers.

Yuugao stares at him. "She invited you, right? So he knew you were going to be there?"

"My mother has invited me every week for three years," Itachi says, uncomfortably aware of how unfilial he has been. "He likely did not know I would actually attend."

Yuugao blinks, long and slow. "She invited you for three years and you never went until now? Cap," she starts and then stops, shaking her head. "That has to be very shocking for him, you know?"

Itachi did know. He just didn't expect the response afterward. 

"How did he react?" presses Yuugao. "Happy? Surprised? Upset?"

Itachi uses a sip of tea to excuse his pause. "Ambivalent," he says. "Defensive. Reticent, but not actively hostile. He was quite open with his emotions and affections when he was younger."

"You're aiming for a return of that behaviour," Yuugao surmises. "Okay. What have you tried so far?"

"He enjoys training and tomatoes," Itachi says. "I taught him a ninjutsu and purchased a meal for him with extra tomatoes."

Yuugao waits expectantly. Itachi has nothing further to add, so she is inevitably disappointed. "You're working with old intel, Cap," she says. "You know your brother's going to be different after three years, and pretending that missing time doesn't exist isn't going to help."

She is right. Time has passed; Itachi needs to treat the encounter like he is encountering a new informant for the first time, instead of an established one. He needs to learn the thoughts and emotions inside the target's head instead of relying on the outdated knowledge in his own.

"Thank you, Yuugao," he says. "Your advice should prove effective."

Yuugao eyes him curiously as he stands. "Advice? Right. No problem, Cap. Good luck?"

"Thank you," Itachi repeats. "Rest and recover quickly." His mind is already at work. 

It takes some time for Itachi to set his new strategy in motion. In that time, the hospital discharges the remaining battered but recovering members of Ro-Han. 

This means that Kakashi slouches into the Hokage's office on a bright morning and says, "Respectfully, Hokage-sama, five days was a little excessive."

Without looking up, the Sandaime says, "I'm quite sure I asked the hospital to keep you for another day, actually."

"I'm fully recovered," Kakashi objects politely. "The medic-nin signed off already."

"Excellent," says the Hokage, setting down his pen. "We are still rather behind. Itachi-kun has already begun moderating civilian committee meetings by himself; I am sure you will have no trouble doing the same."

Kakashi gives the Sandaime a look of suspicion and impending regret. "Is that so?

The Sandaime regards Kakashi benevolently. "Your first assignment will be moderating the Civilian Complaints Committee," he says with serene malice.

Kakashi recoils and wilts. "Hokage-sama, I did just get out of the hospital. Maybe it would be a good idea to take the day off to convalesce?" he tries hopefully.

"These are busy times, I'm afraid, Kakashi-kun," the Sandaime says gravely. "We simply cannot spare you. The committee will await you in forty minutes. Itachi-kun, with me, please."

Thus summoned, Itachi abandons Kakashi to his fate and follows the Sandaime out of his office. Their destination is a secure meeting room containing the captains of the Home Guard, the Intelligence Division, and the Reconnaissance Division. Inoichi looks grim, Shibi contemplative. Chouza's glance lingers a little longer on Itachi.

Brusque nods are traded around the room; neither the Hokage or his captains waste time on pleasantries. 

"As you are aware," Inoichi begins as they resettle around the table, "we received reports that S-rank nukenin Uchiha Shisui clashed with two members of mercenary group Akatsuki last night in Kusa no Kuni. Intelligence operatives alerted the Home Guard at the Hi border but were unable to provide specific details."

"Akatsuki member Biwa Juuyou is presumed dead," says Shibi. "Why? Reconnaissance teams observed the retrieval of an abandoned Kubikiribocho by what appeared to be Kiri hunter-nin."

"There are no direct witnesses," Inoichi adds, crossing his arms. "Their battle flattened the forest and created a reservoir five kilometers across. At this time, the number of casualties is unknown."

"One hundred and seventeen verified civilians crossed the border into Hi no Kuni as refugees," Chouza rumbles, squinting down at his reports. "Most appear to be residents of the Kusa village Sarufutsu, which was destroyed in the battle."

The kikaichuu in Shibi’s coat buzz faintly as he contemplates the reports in front of him. "Uchiha Shisui is believed to have survived.”

Itachi thinks and moves mechanically after that, automatically. He speaks when he should, completes his work neatly, and absorbs the information he needs to know. When prompted, he will be able to recount perfectly his activities that day. And yet, though he will never admit so to anyone, Itachi feels as though he has not lived that day at all. 

Kakashi notices. He does not comment. The descending sun spills golden light across the roof tiles as Kakashi and Itachi depart the Hokage Tower for the day, and finally, he turns to Itachi and says, “I’m heading to Tenzou’s apartment for dinner. You should come.” He gives Itachi an up-and-down look and says, “You’re looking a bit like a scarecrow.”

As seems to frequently be the case, Itachi finds himself uncertain as to how to respond. He settles on, “Does Tenzou know you are inviting me to his apartment for dinner?”

“Maa,” says Kakashi. “He doesn’t know I’m inviting myself over for dinner. Don’t worry about it.”

Itachi gives him a look. Kakashi curves his eye in a smile. “I’m buying him dinner,” Kakashi says, longsuffering, when Itachi continues to stare. “It’ll be a nice surprise.”

Shinobi hate surprises. The fact that Kakashi is continuing to do so anyway could be considered some insidious plot to worm his way into that shinobi’s trust and lower their defenses -- and likely an effective one at that. Itachi reminds himself to safeguard against such tactics in the future. 

“I will have to decline,” says Itachi. “I have plans for dinner already.” He will have to detour to the markets as well.

“With Yuri-san?” Kakashi asks, but his eyes sharpens. “Or with -- ah. Enjoy your dinner plans, Itachi.”

“Thank you. You as well,” Itachi responds, faintly bemused. Kakashi is already walking away, one hand up in a lazy wave. 

Stealth in one's home Village is generally frowned upon, as it can be interpreted as ill intent. Nevertheless, Itachi very strongly does not wish to encounter the majority of the remnants of his clan, and therefore proceeds with great caution through the new Uchiha District. His mother opens the door just as he ascends the stairs. 

"Itachi. Come in," she says with a small smile. "We've just finished preparing dinner." 

Symbolically, as captain of the Konoha Military Police, Mikoto doesn't carry a blade -- neither does the captain of the Konoha Police Force. Of course she is no less deadly between her saihai, Sharingan, and katon, but she represents a shield more than a sword, protection as well as enforcement. Mikoto is still in full uniform tonight, her hair pulled back from her face. She grimaces delicately when she sees that he notices. “I have a meeting with Nara Shikaku and the Administrator in fifty minutes regarding some missing off-duty shinobi,” she says apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m in a little bit of a rush tonight.” 

The Jounin Commander, the Captain of the Military Police, and the Administrator in the same meeting speaks of brewing trouble. Itachi frowns. Perhaps tonight was not a good night to accept the weekly dinner invitation again.

“Though I shouldn’t be speaking of such things now,” Mikoto adds as they turn into the dining room. 

"No shinobi talk at dinner," Sasuke recites automatically. He is seated already, once again next to Mikoto’s place. He doesn’t look up as they seat themselves. 

No shinobi talk at dinner. It is a sharp departure from before, when the only talk at dinner was shinobi talk. “Sasuke. Did you have an enjoyable day at the Academy?” Itachi asks.

Sasuke shoots him a dull look and repeats, “No shinobi talk at dinner.”

“Sasuke,” Mikoto chides. Despite the rushed affair of today’s meal, she has prepared grilled unagi and a fish stew. “Maybe you can tell your brother about going to the market with your friends this afternoon.”

“We did that after training,” Sasuke points out, but like Itachi, he cannot deny their mother. “Me and Ishi went to get kare pan after training,” he relents.

Uchiha Ishi is two years older than Sasuke, the closest in age of the Uchiha shinobi families. Itachi hadn’t been aware that they were friendly with each other outside of clan events. "That sounds pleasant," he said. 

"Yeah," says Sasuke. 

The conversation would have stalled, but Mikoto uses the lull to serve Itachi and Sasuke each choice pieces of the eel. "Itachi, the Uwagaki Market received a new shipment from Nami this morning. If you haven't had crayfish in some time, you might try theirs."

"Aa," Itachi says, though he has no intention of purchasing something that decadent for himself. He takes a bite of unagi and rice and notes, "The flavour of your cooking has no rival."

Mikoto's smile lights up her eyes. "That's very sweet of you, Itachi, but you use the same recipe as I do."

She'd been the one to teach him. Be that as it may, Itachi's grilled unagi never quite matched up to his mother's. 

“Sasuke,” says Itachi. “Would you like to train after dinner?” He glances at Mikoto. “If that is acceptable to you?”

Mikoto’s obvious satisfaction nearly drowns out the weight of Sasuke's frown, but his little brother wipes the expression off his face when Mikoto turns to him. "Sure, I guess," says Sasuke without looking up.

Sasuke is eight; Itachi tries to remember what the fourth-year Academy students are supposed to be learning. He had admittedly not spent a lot of time in the Academy even when he was enrolled. 

There are scars on Sasuke's hands, thin white lines that every Academy student collects from mishandling blades, and the beginnings of callouses along his fingers and palms. When Mikoto excuses herself from the meal to attend to her meeting, Itachi and Sasuke are left sitting across the table. Both of them are looking at Sasuke’s hands. 

“Shall we go to the training grounds?” Itachi suggests.

Sasuke gives him a fleeting look. "Yeah, sure," he mutters. 

Itachi feels another pang of guilt, this time for pressuring Sasuke when he was so clearly reluctant. "If you have homework, perhaps we can reschedule," he offers.

"No," says Sasuke shortly. "Let's just go."

It doesn't sound like an affirmative, but Itachi says, "Very well."

The sky is streaked in red and gold at the horizon, the rest of the encroaching night purple by contrast. Sasuke shivers out of the corner of Itachi's eye as the spring breeze rustles the leaves. Perhaps he should have told Sasuke to bring a jacket, but he has the impression that the reminder would not have been welcome.

Itachi stops in the middle of the clearing. Sasuke has not followed, lingering at the treeline with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

"Perhaps we can spar," Itachi suggests. The Sasuke of his memory is impatient and full of energy, eager to dive straight in, and Itachi's time is limited tonight. 

Sasuke shrugs. "Sure," he says, and draws a kunai.

It had been Itachi's intention to propose a taijutsu-only match; however, this is the first time Sasuke has shown much of an initiative in any activity, and Itachi is more than capable of handling anything Sasuke might try. He nods at Sasuke and says, "Begin."

Sasuke charges. He makes no noise as he does, sprinting straight for Itachi with grim determination. He hurls his kunai, and as Itachi slips out of its trajectory, draws a second from his holster and throws that as well. Itachi catches it, snagging it out of the air and using it to deflect Sasuke, who stabs at him with a third blade. 

Sasuke launches into an aerial kick. Itachi could easily dodge, but he opts to block instead, and it jars his forearm with surprising force. He ducks Sasuke’s follow-through, turns smoothly out of the way as Sasuke lunges again, and this time there’s a katon at his fingertips. 

It doesn’t touch Itachi, of course, but he makes it seem closer than it is because there’s a familiar spark not only in Sasuke’s chakra at the taste of success, but in his eyes. It's a fire that Itachi recognizes, so like their father with the snapping glare, and Itachi feeds it carefully, selfishly. 

He lets Sasuke’s fist pass within millimeters of his face, lets a flame almost scorch his hair. He tosses Sasuke over his shoulder with just enough force that the wind is knocked out of his little brother when he hits the ground. Sasuke grunts, but rolls back on his feet, intent in his eyes, and Itachi leaps away from the thrown kunai, then backwards again when Sasuke yanks the wire to curve its path back towards Itachi. 

It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of the spar. It’s a much slower cadence than his usual training spars, almost predictable even without his Sharingan active. It is a dance he builds entirely around his brother, pressing just hard enough that Sasuke can never quite pause to rest.

When Sasuke starts to flag, he catches Sasuke’s wrist in one hand and says, “We should stop here.”

For a moment, Sasuke’s eyes lock on his full on, and his chest heaves as he gasps in desperate breaths. Time stretches on -- five seconds, then ten before Sasuke finally relaxes and mutters, “Fine.” The fire that had fueled his fight smoldered and vanished entirely, and with it, the hint of his younger brother that he had recognized. 

Sasuke doesn't have a jacket; the sun has set. He will be shivering soon if Itachi doesn't get him indoors. If Itachi himself had brought a jacket or a cloak, he could have given it to his brother, but as it stands, he doesn't think neither he nor Sasuke will want Itachi to wander around the Village shirtless. 

Sasuke starts walking back without even a glance to see if Itachi will follow. He does. 

Itachi should say something-- but what, he does not know. There is too much time lost between himself and Sasuke for him to bridge this divide so quickly, and conversation for the sake of conversation is not Itachi's forte. They spend the trip back to Sasuke's house in silence. 

Itachi lingers at the threshold as Sasuke unlocks the door. "Oyasumi," he says at last.

"Yeah," says Sasuke. "Night." He closes the door.

Itachi feels the weight of weariness bearing down on him, as if Sasuke's departure had knocked a support strut from beneath him. Sasuke might have adapted to live without Itachi, but he still needs Sasuke. He lingers on the doorstep a moment longer just to stretch out his senses and feel the warm flicker of Sasuke's chakra signature within. When he steps away, it is with a strange reluctance. 

It is true night now, and the rooftop highways are busy with activity, dark shadows darting through the darkness. Itachi chooses to stay on the ground, to feel the rounded cobblestones beneath his sandals as he walks. He will have to report to the Hokage Tower early tomorrow, but he has one more stop to make.

The Naka River burbles alongside the path he takes, the gorge falling away to the water far below. He used to come here with Shisui -- to train, to talk, to escape the culture of violence they had both sworn themselves to. He thought they'd been like minds, he and Shisui, but perhaps Shisui had always told him only what he wanted to hear. Shisui has always been the one person he could not surpass.

But Itachi is not here to reminisce. 

The midnight moon hangs high in the sky when Itachi crosses the charred threshold of the old Uchiha District. 

Here lie the remains of the fallen Uchiha. The ground here is ruined, so soaked with blood and ash that it crumbles and gives under a careless step. They say Uchiha were born of fire, forged in the dragon's breath and tempered in the heat of battle. 

Birthed in fire, returned in fire. Every Uchiha who died that night received a pyre and then a burial on their Clan's traditional grounds, and while no one will live here again, the living yet minister to the graves and altars within. 

Itachi has been here before. How could he not? But the last time he set foot in here, the air was still smoky from the ash, choked in grief and the remnants of sakki. He knows every step of this place, burned it into his memory with the Sharingan just to be sure because he couldn’t let himself forget, yet spent only a moment here before fleeing. 

There is a clan shrine, wherein all the names of past Uchiha are engraved, and there are always fresh flowers inside. This is where the Clan comes to mourn those they lost. There is no one here now -- they may be a shinobi Clan, but even the Uchiha who come to pay their respects do so when the sun is there to light the way back to the living world.

There is no dust collected on the dark marble stones within; the Clan takes care of their own. Itachi arranges sticks of incense in their slim jars and lights them in a cupped hand, one after another, until he has ignited one for every Uchiha who fell that night. Specks of soft crimson burn like tiny stars in the darkness. They fill the air with their smoke, and Itachi chokes back the unexpected obstruction in his throat, his eyes watering. He leaves the shrine behind, but the cloy of incense yet clings to his clothes and his hair.

His footsteps carry him deeper into the old Uchiha District, past the skeletal remains of family homes, until at last he reaches the plot where his father’s ashes are buried. Itachi’s hands are empty. He has brought nothing for his father, and moonlight glimmers emptily off the obsidian marker that designates all that remains of Uchiha Fugaku. 

Itachi kneels in the loam, settles his hands in his lap, and closes his eyes. His thoughts calm; his mind settles. He lets his muscles relax into the bite of the wind as his heartbeat slows and steadies. 

He thinks about his father. 

Uchiha Fugaku was a shinobi, but he was also Itachi’s father. He taught Itachi how to spar, how to write, how to protect his brother and his mother. He taught Itachi his first katon, situational analysis both on and off the battlefield, and that peace was worth fighting for. He cared deeply for his family and his Clan, and without a doubt, he had loved Itachi. He was not a bad man. 

Perhaps he would have liked that his final resting spot is here, overlooking the Naka River. Here still he is the guardian of his clan, and here the air is fresh and clear. 

Itachi regrets that it took him so long to visit again. He sets his palms flat in front of him and bows, presses his forehead to the ground and murmurs,  _ “Arigatou gozaimashita. Moushi wake gozaimasen.”  _

Thank you. I’m sorry. 

His father is dead. Two hundred and seventy-three Konoha Military Police officers, all Uchiha, are dead. Itachi could not save them, and he cannot reverse death.

Itachi waits for the familiar crushing guilt, but instead, there is only the faint echo of grief. He feels empty. He feels light.

It is not quite forgiveness, but perhaps acceptance is enough. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many things have happened since I last updated this story. I am stressed. I am still writing. Things are happening.
> 
> I will respond to your comments, I promise. After some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've followed my other work, Rise, you might remember my mention that I literally just read the titles of the Itachi Shinden light novels and they made me depressed so I went to write something more hopeful for him. This is it.


End file.
